


The Power, the Status

by Shay_Moonsilk



Series: Kingdom of Hell [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Court Shenanigans, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Dark Crowley, Description of healing, Explicit Language, Fighting, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Hastur in particular is a fan, Heaven and Hell get their war, Hell wins, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I promise, I promise it's not super dark, Lord of Hell Crowley, M/M, Major Character Injury, Marriage Proposal, Minor Angst, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Possessive Crowley, Prince!Crowley, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Queen of Hell, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Sex, Subdrop, Subspace, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Violence, Weddings, but he's nice to Aziraphale don't worry, but the demons will, demonic book club, no betas we saunter vaguely downstairs like Crowley, proposal, telling your former boss to fuck off, the angels don't treat Aziraphale right, the demons respect Aziraphale for the temptations he did over the years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-07-27 01:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk
Summary: “Why would I fuck a demon? Simple, the status. Imagine you and your friends arriving at the gates of hell, they’re all crying, scared to death for eternity and you just walk into the arms of your sugar demon, legendary.”That wasn't Aziraphale's intent - he just wanted to be with his love.Crowley knew it was only a matter of time before the Big One.





	1. War Without War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brutumfulmen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutumfulmen/gifts), [Scusi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scusi/gifts).
  * Translation into Español available: [El poder, el estatus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236072) by [Erzs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erzs/pseuds/Erzs)

> I don't know where the quote originated, but I don't know why this hasn't been used for a Good Omens fic before! I've also really enjoyed stories where Crowley is a lot more high-ranking then we think ('they love me downstairs', he gets summoned to deliver the Antichrist, he gets away with EVERYTHING), and it honestly felt like he was something of a Prince. And in a war, someone high ranking would get certain...privileges. Like getting to keep a favorite Angel. 
> 
> I'm gifting this to Scusi and Moezyonover, Scusi for the 'Crowley is high-ranking' inspiration (read Infamous it's so good!), and Moe for all their work and being very kind when I obsess and panic over their stories out of love. Thank you both.

Crowley did have the right of it. In the end, Heaven and Hell figured out that they didn’t actually have to cause  _ Armageddon _ just to fight with each other. Rather, they could just, well,  _ fight _ each other. Which he knew was going to happen.

Afterall, he  _ was _ a General in the army. 

And he didn’t exactly care about the war one way or another. He just hadn’t been ready to end all of humanity, especially because he hadn’t even had his Angel yet. As far as he was concerned, Armageddon could wait until he had one Angel in his arms and willingly under his protection before the sides went after each other. 

He and Aziraphale had been enjoying a walk in St. James’ park; for in all the centuries they had spent meeting in Museums, Galas, Opera, Palaces, and parks for the Arrangement, they had spent precious little time  _ enjoying _ those sites together. At least, according to Crowley’s exacting standards, which any of his plants could tell you ( _ though not really tell, because plants don’t speak _ ) were rather high in deed. And in the wake of the False Armageddon, upon leaving the Ritz, whereupon Aziraphale realized that when Crowley said  _ ‘Angel’ _ what he really meant was  _ ‘I love you’  _ and when he replied ‘ _ My Dear _ ’ what  _ he _ really meant was ‘ _ I love you too’ _ and when he realized he could just say it  _ out loud, _ Crowley wanted to make the most of their time before the next Big One. 

Not that Aziraphale had any idea how true that statement would be. 

It was why he pretended that he didn’t see Aziraphale looking at cottages in the South Downs. And on that promised picnic, he cut off Aziraphale showing him the printouts in the favor of presenting two first-class tickets to Italy. 

Aziraphale had no way of knowing they were on borrowed time, and Crowley couldn’t ruin that for him, not yet. Not when there was so much left to see before they would be called Down There for a Good Long While. He wanted Aziraphale to enjoy the world that  _ they _ had saved. The whole of it. Of course, it wasn’t going to go anywhere, thanks to them. But  _ they _ would be. 

Crowley took them back to the first times they had met - Rome, Egypt, Jerusalem - all the major milestones of history. They traveled through Southeast Asia, going up through Russia. Crowley even tempted Aziraphale into taking a train from Istanbul to Calais, letting him live the novel fantasy he had denied wanting. They went down through France, into Spain, and took a ferry from Girlbralter to Tunisia and sauntered vaguely towards South Africa. No city was too small, stone left unturned. Hand-in-hand they saw everything, together. Crowley took Aziraphale through Ethiopia, where he had a hand in coffee (‘ _ Which I sold to Downstairs as a win because, well,  _ you know,” he had said) and Aziraphale showed Crowley where he let a soccer ball influence a few kind-meaning people in South Africa (‘ _ Upstairs didn’t  _ get it _ , of course, but it felt nice to do  _ some _ good _ ,” he reflected). 

Aziraphale, having decided that 6,000 years moved slow enough, then suggested they see the Americas - neither had been since the Independence war, afterall. And although Crowley knew that would mean Aziraphale would finally learn about  _ Hamilton _ , he said yes. 

They drove, they flew, and on the rare occasion, they  _ flew _ . Soared high above the clouds over the middle of the United States before landing on top of those rocks that had the faces carved into them. They showed each other places they had been on their own, showed each other places they had even been together, but it was  _ different  _ now because both had been so  _ lonely _ before, even when they were together and now they  _ had _ each other.  _ Knew _ each other. 

And they  _ knew _ each other now. 

Finally, after 6,000 years of Crowley scowling at anyone who thought they were together ( _ which was anyone who had ever sat through a conversation with them before _ ), because he couldn’t believe that a crazed American book-girl could see it before His Angel, to finally having Aziraphale. 

Which was what brought them back to London, which had always been their city before it was really known as London. They had reprised their position that day - the beginning of the New Chapter in their lives. It was only three short years ago. Crowley led Aziraphale to the ice cream stand, and handed him a vanilla cone with a not-so-rare-anymore smile. Aziraphale took it with a smile of his own - no longer nervously looking over his shoulder to any Angels or Demons. ( _ Ironically, he should have been that day.) _

Instead, he took Crowley’s arm when he offered it, and the two finally got to stroll down the park like they had always wanted to, much to the approval of the ducks. ( _ The ducks had always assumed they had been dating. And ducks don’t much care for the human perception of linear time, so the fact that the two man-shaped creature had been feeding them for centuries had never been a cause for concern. The blond one had always given the nice treats, besides, and the red one always made sure the blond one was safe to keep feeding them, so why question a good thing? _ ) 

It’s during this walk that it happens. Crowley and Aziraphale feel it in the guise of an earthquake, but both know what it means the second it happens. 

Aziraphale gasps, and drops his ice cream in favor of holding onto Crowley’s arm. Crowley has abandoned his as well, and places his hand on the back of his angel’s head. 

“This is it,” He intones. 

Aziraphale doesn’t argue. “I had hoped we would get more time,” his eyes fill with unshed tears. Crowley tuts at him. 

“You think I’ll let a thing like war keep us apart, after 6,000 years?” He scoffs, “‘thought you knew me Angel.”

“I do  _ know _ you,” Aziraphale sasses back, and Crowley feels a surge of pride at the double-meaning. Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing  _ indeed _ . 

To their ears alone, they hear the sound of a horn from above, and the world below them trembles once more. 

Without warning, Aziraphale’s wings burst from him. He cries out in both pain and shock - without his control they rip through his back and tear through his clothing. Crowley’s wings also tear out a split second later, but it’s enough of a moment that he can anticipate it. 

“Crowley,” and the demon  _ hates _ how shakey Aziraphale’s voice is right now, “What do you have planned? We’re running out of time - I can feel myself being summoned.” 

It doesn’t matter that they’ve been seemingly shunned from their respective sides - Aziraphale has to answer to a prophetic call if Michael has decided to start blowing the heavenly horns of war. Crowley has maybe a minute before Aziraphale is forcibly lifted away from him. 

So the safest place is down.

As if on cue, the grass parts just spaces away from them, and Aziraphale gasps to see Hastur rising from below the surface. Crowley moves in front of him, giving the Duke a sneer. He places a hand on his hip, glowering at the other demon. 

“You’re late.” He snaps, “What, traffic on the M25 go to slowly for you?” 

Hastur says nothing, which is likely for the best. 

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale hisses, clutching at Crowley’s shoulders. He’s trying to get in front of the demon, out of a misguided sense of trying to protect him. It warms the space in Crowley’s corporation that constitutes a heart. ( _ He technically has one, but demons as a rule do not feel love. Hypothetically there is one famous exception, but no one other than a specific Angel will ever know for sure because he will never admit it _ ). 

“I’m here for the Angel,” Hastur instead intones, and to Crowley’s satisfaction bowes his head. He’s also spread enough anecdotes of their Arrangement downstairs, and knows that a certain demonic miracle the Angel performed in 1793 is considered a favorite story to a demon like Hastur, who isn’t very creative. 

Aziraphale, predictably, freezes. 

“It’s alright,” Crowley whispers, leaning back to whisper into his ear. “You can go with him, you’ll be safe. I need you to trust me.”

It’s a low blow, invoking Aziraphale’s trust in him when he didn’t have any time to explain what was happening, not properly. Though to his defense, he had planned on explaining that day. It was just…

Aziraphale was an anxious angel. He was constantly worrying over something, constantly worried that he was doing the wrong thing. He was always looking over his shoulder, waiting to be told off because no one ever told him when he did the right thing. Once, during the years when they thought they were raising the Antichrist, Aziraphale had been telling Crowley how the rest of the angels were convinced he was going to fail. 

_ (“I’ve always felt like,” He had said, “They treat me they way you treat a small dog that learns how to perform tricks for treats. It’s cute, but you don’t trust them to do anything big, or important. They don’t really care about all of this,” here he flung an arm out, indicating the servants’ dining room they were talking in, but Crowley knew he had meant humanity, “They just care about lip service, and they think it’s ‘cute’ that I care.” They weren’t naming their feelings, not yet, but Crowley knew the familiar bite of protectiveness that had led him to dropping bombs on churches quite well. It was a shame he couldn’t smite angels up in heaven, but that would come soon enough.  _

_ Aziraphale went on to describe how whenever he interacted with Upstairs, he always felt like he was standing over a ledge, leaning precariously over an abyss. Not falling, or Falling, but getting that horrible stomach sensation before a dramatic drop. But he felt that way all the time.  _

_ Crowley was reminded of that conversation, years later, when Gabriel confirmed all his angel’s worse fears: “ _ Shut your stupid mouth, and die already _ .” And  _ smiled _ .  _

I’ll remember this, _ he thought. _ I’ll remember this when it comes time for us to fight. _ ) _

And Crowley wanted to give him three anxiety-free years. It was the least he could do after 6,000 years of pushing for more then Aziraphale felt comfortable giving. 

Which led him to where he was now, trying to convince Aziraphale to go Downstairs with someone who had hit him with a crowbar the last time they met. Not that Hastur knew. 

“You need to go with him before They pull you away,” He whispered, “And they won’t hurt you, I promise.” Crowley pushed Aziraphale forward, who instinctively listened, even though his eyes were confused. “I’ll explain later,” the demon promised, “I just need to take care of a few things first.”

Hastur and Aziraphale disappeared from sight. 

_ \---- _

Aziraphale was many things. A book hoarder. A glutton. A better-then-average magician ( _ despite what Crowley said _ ). 

But not a fool. 

He  _ knew _ Crowley had been rushing for something after the Failed Armageddon. He  _ knew _ that trip-around-the-world had been planned as a vacation for a reason, that there was something Crowley was desperate for. But after 6,000 years of knowing his friend-turned-romantic partner, he knew that Crowley always had a plan in place, and the smartest thing he could do was let Crowley figure out his plans, and trust that he would be brought along when the time was right. 

After all, Crowley had  _ never _ given him reason to doubt. 

It was more then his former colleagues had ever given him. 

Having three years away from his own limited duties helped give the perspective to realize that his work environment had been rather sterile and toxic. Going from that to a loving relationship with someone that  _ believed _ in him and  _ cherished _ him and  _ unconditionally _ loved him had been dizzying, and just wonderful. In hindsight, Crowley’s plan had probably been to relax him away from their old lives so he could be ready to move into whatever next Stage his love believed was necessary. 

And how ironic that a demon,  _ the _ wily serpent of Eden, the  _ original tempter, _ was more considerate of Aziraphale’s feelings and quirks then his former family. 

When the ground trembled below, he knew in an instant what that meant. Of course both sides still wanted the war. And of course they realized that they could just fight without people noticing. These days, no one looked up from their phones long enough to  _ notice _ anything. 

( _ As a dare from Crowley, Aziraphale had walked around during the height of the Pokemon Go craze with his wings out for five minutes during a ‘raid’ - not one person gave him a second look. He’d had to give the game a miracle upgrade as a result, which is why no one can ever trade in a holiday Pikachu. They were his favorite, and it served the users right. _ ) 

Hastur popping out had been a shock, and Aziraphale could still feel the bump the other demon had given. It stunned him all the more that Crowley wanted him to  _ go _ with the Duke. 

But Crowley had never given pause for doubt, and Aziraphale wanted to prove that he had put all his faith in him now. 

So he went. 

\------


	2. High Court of the Darkest Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale saunters vaguely downstairs, but not like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my Someone, I was not prepared for the response this got! Thank you to everyone who left a kind word - it really means the world to me! I feel so blessed (or dammed, depending on your side) that this is connecting! If you would like to message with me further, please reach out to my tumblr, GoodOmensAndRecreation! 
> 
> I'm also basing Aziraphale's anxiety off of my own - I really identified with him in the show, they way he is constantly worried that he is doing everything wrong and someone is judging him. I feel like that all the time. Basically I want a Crowley to tell me I'm doing okay XD so it's a little wish-fulfillment for myself.

Aziraphale remembered Hell being a lot more crowded, not to mention a lot more odorous, and just altogether more desolate. But as he followed Hastur down a series of poorly lit hallways, he couldn’t help but notice that Hell was a lot emptier then he last remembered. There were few demons milling about, most likely they were Above, fighting in the glorious war that both sides had been so  _ desperate  _ for. It made his insides squirm. Just what was happening? And what was happening that had Crowley entrusting him to  _ Hastur  _ and  _ leaving  _ him? 

But he had promised his trust to Crowley, and Crowley entrusted him to Hastur, and he didn’t want to make any more assumptions about his demon without him  _ being  _ there. 

This time around, he let himself glance about his surroundings, taking the time to recognize the demotivational posters ( _ 'You CAN'T do whatever you put your mind to', 'Lack of planning on my part can and will cause an emergency on your part', 'The journey of a thousand miles will lead to sore feetx what else did you expect?') _ that Crowley had bragged about while they had been in the back of a TukTuk in Thailand. He’d have to remember to commend the demon for them, they really were entertaining. 

But perhaps it was smarter to spend his efforts observing his guide.

Crowley had said to trust him, and he  _ did, _ but that trust didn't extend to someone who tried to hurt  _ his _ demon. Three years was certainly not enough time to forget the crowbar, or how Hastur had nearly killed Crowley and forced him into using that  _ dammed _ Holy Water. And the Holy Water incident was  _ not _ something he liked to think about because it only reminded him of missed  _ decades  _ they could have  _ been together  _ and how needlessly cruel he had been over the years. Well, drat it, now he was thinking about nineteenth and twentieth centuries again, and how awful he had been. 

And  _ there  _ was that stomach-sinking feeling - the feeling of leaning over a great height and unable to see the ground below. It reminded him of the Grand Canyon, when they spent the night looking over the magnificent rocks far far beneath. He had leaned over and found the emotion in his stomach was similar to the way he used to feel for the majority of his six thousand years on Earth. But he had Crowley to gently pull him away that time, just as Crowley had pulled him away from that feeling metaphorically in Eden, or at the Dowling Residence, or at the end of World War II, or so many countless times in between. 

_ Not  _ having Crowley now to metaphorically pull him away was unbearable, and he was so very bad at pulling himself away. Usually whatever the agony focused on had to unfold as it needed to unfold for it to  _ really  _ go away, but this was over something that had already happened. Best bet was to focus on something else until he could be alone with Crowley again. 

Crowley wasn't with him right now, so he felt his efforts were best spent on re-focusing on his surroundings, specifically Hastur. 

The demon hadn’t said more than two words to him since popping up in St. James park at the onset of the Great War. He actually, and Aziraphale had to do a double-take, but he seemed almost…  _ nervous _ ? 

But that was ridiculous. 

The Angel cleared his throat. “Ah, excuse me, where are we going?” 

And there it was! Hastur actually jumped at being spoken to! 

“‘Throne room.” He grumbled, “To the hall of our great triumph.”

“Great triumph?” Aziraphale asked, confused, “But the fighting just started!” 

Hastur let out an involuntary scoff, but then seemed to freeze. He seemed to be expecting retaliation. When none came, he replied, “The fightings still going on, yeah, but the war is over.” 

“Well,” Aziraphale mulled, “That doesn’t make any sense! And why wouldn’t Crowley be down here?”

“Unlike those  _ humans  _ you two are so fond of, here Generals give commands on the  _ frontline,”  _ Hastur answered, and Aziraphale realized secondly that scoffing was just Hastur’s natural voice. 

But first, he realized that  _ Crowley was a general. _

That had never come up before. Not in the 6,000 years they had been friends, or in the three years post-Start Of The Rest Of Their Lives. 

But he couldn’t let that shock show on his face - not in front of Hastur, who had gone back to silently leading him towards the Throne Room, whatever that was. Only now the demon was shooting looks his way.

“Is there something on my face?” Aziraphale snapped. He hated being stared at when it was from anyone that wasn’t His Demon. 

Hastur’s face skewed, the way one’s does when they are trying not to laugh. 

“I just.. I just wanted to know,” And Aziraphale was shocked to hear his voice sound  _ timid _ , “How you thought to switch the clothing with that executioner.”

_ What _ ? “ _ What _ ?”

“You were gonna be  _ executed _ , because you wore fancy clothes,” Now the words were  _ pouring  _ out of Hastur, who seemed honestly  _ excited  _ to be having this conversation - if that was even the right word for it, “But then you just  _ swapped  _ with that executioner and  _ he  _ got executed instead, for the same reason he killed all the  _ other  _ people for!”

No, excited wasn’t the right word. It was glee. Hastur was gleefully recounting a story that Aziraphale had been told never to repeat under pain of Crowley’s annoyance. 

But Hastur wasn’t done talking. “And no one  _ recognized  _ him in the fancy clothes! All those  _ stupid  _ freedom fighters and you pointed out their poor planning and they  _ turned  _ on each other! How did you think to do that?” 

And now he was looking at Aziraphale, much in the same way small children looked up at him when they wanted to know how he could pull coins out of their ears. 

“Ah, well,” He said, because when you looked past the maggots, evil, and aura of desolation, Hastur really did remind him of those small children, “He, erm, annoyed me.”

Hastur cackled, actually doubling over and causing the few demons near them to scamper off. 

“ _ He annoyed you _ !” Aziraphale had never seen a demon laugh so loudly - except, of course, when he told Crowley about the towel bit. It honestly made him…  _ grin  _ a bit. 

“He annoyed me,” Aziraphale agreed, “And I needed to  _ leave _ , and I decided if he was so obsessed with my clothing then he should get to wear it.” 

“That’s better than I thought,” Hastur chortled. “After Court can I hear it again?”

“Well, we’ll see,” Aziraphale said, because it was one thing to fill in a detail that amused Hastur, but another to tell a story from start to finish that he was  _ never supposed to repeat in the first place.  _

The entire conversation was so surreal. Thankfully, it was also over, because Aziraphale didn’t need Hastur to tell him they arrived to the throne room.

Unlike the location of his trial, the Throne Room had three thrones, two of a similar size flanking a larger one in the middle. The middle one reminded Aziraphale of that one popular show that Crowley had worked on - indirectly, of course. The one with the dragons and nudity. Although, there had been a moment that Aziraphale should have focused on, in hindsight, but didn’t. 

_ (“It had only been my idea to make a book into a show,” Crowley had said. They were lying together in bed, reflecting on their more modern projects while at the Dowling residence. Aziraphale had been dozing, head on Crowley’s chest while the demon stroked his hair.  _

_ “How’s that demonic?” He had half-slurred, trying to fight back sleep.  _

_ “Because audiences have to wait longer for a show,” the demon replied, “I put it on an exclusive network too, so people either had to pay more for years to watch it, or they had to illegally watch it. A win for my side either way.” _

_ Not your side anymore, Aziraphale had thought, but his eyelids became too heavy. Crowley’s hand was petting his hair exactly like he had always wished it would, and the sun was setting over the Amalfi coast so beautifully, and they had eaten oysters that day before retiring to a little hotel neither had been before, and Aziraphale found himself drifting off too sleep, accompanied by the feeling of lips on his forehead.) _

But it was his side still, apparently. 

There were demons stationed around the sides of the room, leaving the middle open. It looked like one of the more traditional courts he had been a part of, not even one thousand years ago. There were some additional chairs, in the same style and coloring as the thrones, but were much smaller. 

Hastur led him to one of the side-thrones, where Aziraphale noticed a similar stool poised just in front of it. “That’s for you,” he said, moving without another word to one of the chairs that framed the perimeter. 

Aziraphale’s throat went dry. 

There was no reason  _ not  _ to -  _ Crowley  _ had told him to trust him,  _ Crowley  _ told him to go with Hastur, and  _ Hastur  _ told him to sit here. So he did. 

He folded his hands in his lap, trying not to think about how this was a nicer version of the bench in his cell in 1793. He tried not to compare this moment to that moment - he wasn’t in cuffs, he (hopefully) wasn’t going to lose his head, he just had to hope Crowley would be there soon. More and more demons filed into the room, staying as close to the walls as possible. Some were looking at him, and Aziraphale could hear whispers. 

_ That’s the one… _

_ He tricked those executioners… _

_ Helped bomb a church… _

The whispering was cut off by the entrance of Dagon, who called out, “All rise! The Princes of Hell approach!” 

That meant Beezlebub for sure- 

_ Princes _ ? 

Thankfully everyone’s attention was directed at the entrance, for Aziraphale’s eyes bulged out of his head in that moment. Beezlebub entered the room, he had that much right. But right  _ next  _ to them was  _ Crowley _ ! 

Somehow he was able to remain standing as the two demons - two princes - crossed into the room. Most of the surrounding demons bowed their heads and spines, but Aziraphale was too stunned to do so. 

Beelzebub approached the large throne, and, with a snap, repositioned it so it was somehow further back from the other two, and smaller. They then took the other throne. 

Crowley approached him. There were  _ so many _ questions, and that sinking feeling was back and stronger than ever. Aziraphale felt an internal heat that rose through his chest, coursed through his arms, and flushed his face. It was completely unrelated to the fires of Hell. This was much more  _ intense _ . But they were surrounded - but surrounded by people that were bowing to him? 

Crowley leaned in, raising a hand to hold the back of his head, resting it on the back of his neck. His lips gently brushed the angel’s ear, “I promise to explain later,” he whispered, “Please just trust me here, lean against me.” 

With that, he too sat, also lowering Aziraphale to sit in the chair he was in just moments before. The angel shifted, knowing that behind him Crowley was sprawled in his throne ( _ his throne _ ?) just as he would sprawl in that absurd chair in that flat back in London. Legs splayed, slouched back, leaning into his right hand with his fingers splayed in his hair. A subtle demonic miracle elongated the back of Aziraphale’s own chair, so he could lean back into Crowley when the demon reached out with his other hand. 

A flush pinked Aziraphale’s face at the vulnerable position, but no one seemed to give them any hostile looks. Quite the opposite - a few demons seemed to shift in  _ jealousy _ and  _ disappointment _ . 

The contact had helped assuage Aziraphale’s fears for a moment, but the jealous looks brought it back. It was clear that Crowley was  _ important _ here, and a poor excuse of an Angel like Aziraphale clearly didn’t belong. 

“ _ Stop that, _ ” came the demon’s voice from behind him. It came out as a growl - meant for no one to hear but himself. “ _ Try to relax, I know it’s hard. They all want you _ .”

What? 

“ _ What _ ?” Aziraphale hissed back, but Beelzebub took that moment to speak.

“The foolish angels blow their horns above - as you all heard,” They called out, “And our King was ready to meet them at the Gates!” 

This was met with voracious cheers from the demons in attendance. 

Beelzebub grinned, feeding off the energy of the crowd. “That’s right! At this moment our Kind is on the battlefield, preparing our forces in all the great spots! The Bermuda Triangle! The Himalayas! New Jersey!” 

“Hail Satan!” The crowd roared back. 

“And your Prince Crowley returns!” Beelzebub called, gesturing at the demon. Aziraphale paled as the attention shifted to them, and could see the half-hearted wave Crowley ( _ Prince _ ?) gave out of the corner of his eye, “Bringing the future Prince Consort Principality Aziraphale - great trickster from Earth!” 

Great what?

Future whom? 

“They do not come empty-handed,” Beelzebub made a snapping motion, and the doors opened again. Ligur, whom Adam revived when he reset reality, led another figure into the room, this one covered with a sack where a head was supposed to be. 

“No we did not,” Crowley called over, and Aziraphale could  _ hear _ the smirk. 

“Your Prince led the charge in the first of many battles,” Beezlebub added, “And although the fighting will continue, the war is won already!” 

The crowd roared, and Ligur tore off the sack. 

Aziraphale gasped. 

“ _ Sandalphon _ ?”

The angel was bound in metal cuffs - Aziraphale suspected they hindered his angelic abilities. Indeed, Sandalphon struggled, but his efforts appeared useless. 

“We bring you, as a welcome back present to us,” Crowley called, “One of the original wankers.” 

And Aziraphale knew what he was thinking. _ Can I get a wahoo? _

That was when Sandalphon looked over in his direction, and his eyes met Aziraphale’s. Flames seemed to enrage in his eyes when he took in the Principality’s posture.

“Traitor!” He roared, rounding on him, and Aziraphale ( _ remembering that punch from three years ago _ ) flinched back into Crowley’s chest, who tightened his grip on him. 

Looking almost bored, Beelzebub gave a snap, and a column of Hellfire burst in front of Sandalphon. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. 

“Take him to the pits below,” Beelzebub sneered, and a mob rushed forward to drag him away. It didn’t escape Aziraphale’s notice that Hastur led the charge.

To the remaining demons - not many left, because not even court could hold the attention of demons if there was an Angel to arrest - Beelzebub said, “Orders will come down the line as our King commands. Be ready to serve. Hail Satan!”

“Hail Satan!” The remaining demons chanted back. With that, everyone else began to take their leave. Dagon remained behind to whisper to Beelzebub, who gave Crowley, and Aziraphale(?) a nod before leaving as well. Crowley motioned for Azirahpale to stand, and he followed suit. Much like hours before, before the horns blew and the heavens shook, Crowley offered his arm. 

_ I trust you,  _ Aziraphale thought, and took it. 

“ _ Come with me, _ ” Crowley whispered to him, “ _ I promise I’ll explain everything now. _ ” 

Aziraphale really hoped so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come reach me on Tumblr, GoodOmensAndRecreation!


	3. To Make a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginnings of an explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the additional tags and rating changes! Thank you EVERYONE for the kind words and support, I am COMPLETELY blown away.
> 
> I left Aziraphale's parts intentionally vague, because I know people have different ideas and wanted it to be, in a word, ineffable. 
> 
> Come chat with me! My Good Omens side blog is GoodOmensAndRecreation, I love friends.

_ There is a beautiful moment, on the Amalfi coast, when Crowley finally sees Aziraphale _ let go _ . They travel there off a whim - when a barista in Rome tells them that Positano is the best place for Oysters. They never did eat together all those years ago, and Crowley is adamant that he make it up to his Angel. _

_ Aziraphale is euphoric - his home is in SoHo, but his _ soul _ belongs in Italy. He loves every moment they spend in every city, and they spend their time in Positano enjoying oysters, (Crowley doesn’t quite get the appeal, but for him it’s always been more about watching Aziraphale enjoy food) limoncello, gelato, and squid ink pasta. _

_ It happens after dinner, when they are walking barefoot along the beach. Crowley had initially offered his arm, but the more they walked the more he just wrapped his arm around the angel. And there’s that moment where Aziraphale just … melts against him. The place where Crowley’s corporation keeps his heart would be bursting, if he were a mortal. But he is a Demon Prince, and he knows that he needs to be worthy of that title, for both their sakes. _

\----

Hell is certainly a lot more crowded than before, but no demon dares to draw too close to Crowley or Aziraphale. The two walked arm and arm, but Aziraphale can’t bring himself to notice the direction they are taking. He just feels so stupid. 

He should have known Crowley was _ important _ Downstairs - it had been so obvious. Crowley never had to worry about quotas of _ frivolous miracles _. Crowley never got stationed anywhere. At most they suggested he go to one place or meet someone. The closest he had ever come to following an order was - 

Aziraphale felt himself blush, in spite of himself. 

_ (“It’ll take a miracle to get anyone to come and see Hamlet.” _

_ “My treat”) _

_ (“My coats been in tip-top condition for over 180 years!” _

_ “You can miracle it away” _

_ “But I’ll know”) _

Crowley seemed to be amenable to suggestions when _ Aziraphale _ asked. And he had always thought that it worked both ways, but it took a dinner at the Ritz when the celebrate the First Day of the Rest of Their Lives when Aziraphale looked over the table, and saw Crowley _ regarding _ him and he realized the truth. And he had enjoyed three lovely years of _ knowing _ his demon intimately, but it didn’t seem like he really _ knew _ his demon. 

“Aziraphale? We’re here.” The angel looked up to see Crowley opening a door. It didn’t take them long to get here, wherever _ here _ was. 

Which had to make sense - if they had been in the throne room, then wherever Crowley’s chambers were would have to be close to that throne room, because _ Demon Prince _. 

“Angel?” 

“Oh!” He was still lost in fault, and realized that Crowley was still waiting for an answer, “Yes, I, er, guess we are here.” 

“After you,” The demon murmured, and Aziraphale rarely heard him use that _ gentle _ tone of voice. 

_ (“You can stay at my place, if you like”) _

Indeed. 

Aziraphale thanked him, and went in. 

The aesthetic in Crowley’s… quarters …. Reminded the angel of the Mayfair apartment he kept in London. There were plants that trembled upon their arrival, artwork lining the walls… 

“How is all of your artwork _ here _?” Aziraphale gasped.

It was all there! The Mona Lisa, the Angel and Demon _ wrestling _ , _ all _ of it! 

“You really _ knew _ about all of this, and just - you just - _ played me for a sucker!? _”

“Angel _ please _-”

“And I just-” At what point did he start crying? Azriaphale choked out a laugh, trying to hastily wipe at his eyes. This was the last thing he needed, his _ emotions _ making him _ soft _ and _ weak- _

“Hey,” Before he knew if, a pair of arms and black wings wrapped around him. “I’ll not have you talk about My Angel like that.” 

Apparently he had said that last bit out loud. Aziraphale trembled in his arms, grabbing at his jacket. He buried his face into Crowley’s neck, not saying a thing. 

“I never meant to play you,” Crowley said, “Or deceive you. I promise.”

And Crowley had never broken a promise. Not to him. 

“I Fell because I hung around with the wrong people,” Crowley said, “Because I didn’t think it made sense to tempt humanity into their own destruction. Because murdering children was wrong. I used to rail at the archangels, against her. I did it over and over again, and let Lucifer egg me on. I was in that Great War, I was right by his side. You existed then, right?” 

Rarely - never - did they talk about their lives before Eden. Aziraphale had suspected that Crowley had existed before him, had wondered what his role in Heaven had been, but it had always seemed too rude to ask. 

“I did,” He answered, “I ah, I actually fought in the war, with that sword I used to own. Only I took a rather nasty hit to the leg that never quite healed right.”

During the 6,000 years, he had always assumed that was why he disliked going Upstairs - abandoning his corporation brought back the pain from that old wound. Of course, he now knew that was one of many reasons he didn’t like going. 

Crowley’s grip around him got tighter. “I’m sorry about that,” He said, “But I imagine they didn’t live long after?”

“They did not,” Aziraphale affirmed. 

“Good,” Crowley continued, “Lucifer was the leader, he became King down here, but he wanted to have someone Above, to carry out the wiles, and Below, to handle the day to day. So that meant putting Beezlebub down Here, and sending me Up There to Make Some Trouble.” 

Aziraphale swallowed. “But you always acted so…. Surprised when it happened?” 

“That was never the part that surprised me,” Crowley shook his head, “Angel, it was always you.” 

“Wha-_ me _?” 

“You _ gave away _ your sword,” Crowley said, and without the sunglasses obscuring his face Aziraphale had no protection for the _ look _ in his eyes. “You protected them, and I thought, ‘ _ this one isn’t like the others, he’s worth keeping my eye on _ ’ and _ then _ you covered me with your wing, even though you yourself got soaked. No other angel would do that, especially for a demon. You had no _ way _ of knowing my status, and I just… _ needed _ to have someone treat me that way, regardless of my rank Down Here.” 

“But you never told me,” Aziraphale said, “Not even, not even after-”

“I didn’t want to rush you,” Crowley said, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I always went to fast for you, you were _ absolutely _ right, and I didn’t want to _ push _ you more than you were willing to give. I told you I fell in love with you in Rome” and he leaned back to make sure Aziraphale nodded, remembering, before continuing, “And I knew heaven was a stifling place that didn’t really care about personal relationships, so I knew better than to think it was anything you were doing on purpose.

“But,” Crowley continued, “We weren’t _ there _ yet, not when Armageddon was _ supposed _ to happen. I had a feeling we were _ close _ , but I didn’t want to risk _ losing you _ in a second Great War that also wiped out _ our _ world out of some misplaced sense of loyalty to people that didn’t appreciate you.” 

_ Not the way I can, _ went unsaid, but both heard it. 

(“_ Shut your stupid mouth, and die already _.”) 

“So you wanted us to stop Armageddon.” Aziraphale said, and Crowley nodded. The angel mulled it over. 

“Well,,, thankfully we really messed it up.” He mused, and Crowley grinned. 

“In our own way.” 

“But what made this war so okay to you?” Aziraphale asked, “And I can understand not sharing your status before, but it doesn’t change the fact that it _ does _ hurt still. And… what was with _ Hastur _ earlier? _ Trickster _ ? _ Future Prince Consort _?” 

“Right, right, I’ll explain it, I promise,” Crowley acknowledges, “But not in my entryway.” 

It’s when Aziraphale realizes that they are still in the first room, surrounded by all the artwork. 

“This is… an entryway?” 

“I’m a Prince here, Angel,” Crowley says, “And I’ve had time to build this - for us.” 

It results in the strangest tour Aziraphale had ever been on. The entryway branches out into a series of additional rooms. There is a kitchen with a breakfast nook, a dining room, a parlor, a study, a room for more plants - like a greenhouse bus inside, and, _ oh- _

“My _ books _ .” Aziraphale whispers. It is. It’s all his books from his bookshop, in a library in this place that Crowley meant to be _ theirs. _

“We packed up all our things when we left,” Crowley reminded him in a whisper. His arms are wrapped around his angel from behind, his head is tilted to rest against Aziraphale’s head. “So I arranged for a different kind of storage to hold everything.” He placed a kiss to the angel’s neck, and on instinct Aziraphale leans back into him. 

The angel reaches up to grasp Crowley’s hands, where they rest on him. “_ Thank you _ ,” He whispers. It’s an adjustment, for certain, but he can see touches in this place where Crowley tried to make it home for _ them _. 

Crowley, on his own, would never need a breakfast nook, or even a functioning kitchen. He wouldn’t have a library, or a dining room, or a parlor. Those are touches for _ him _. Aziraphale swallows, and offers him a smile. “How long have you been working on this?” 

“Off and on, a couple hundred years,” Crowley admitted. “Around Paris I got worried you would just get yourself discorporated and I couldn’t have _ that _.”

Aziraphale chuckled, but then remembered his confusing conversation with Hastur. “I thought we agreed not to tell that story?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. Crowley gave a sheepish shrug. 

“Well, I may be a prince, but there’s only so much I _ really _ am allowed to get away with down here - really,” He promised, in response to the dubious look Aziraphale gave him. “I wanted to keep you down here, but that was going to take work! So, I started letting some details about Our Arrangement _ slip _ down here - just the juicy bits that I knew they’d like. The problem is… well… any amount of Angel tempting is pure gold around here and they couldn’t get enough of you. You’re ... somewhat famous down here.” 

Crowley cocked his head to the side. Aziraphale had gone deadly silent, and his face went blank. “Angel? You there?”

“Nope.” Aziraphale shook his head, and let out an aborted laugh. “Forgive me dear,” He gave another laugh, one that made Crowley cringe, “It sounded like you shared details of _ Our Arrangement _ and the demons here _ enjoyed _ it?” 

“It’s not their fault!” Crowley said, “They don’t get cable, or cinema down here. There’s no sense of dramatic irony or storytelling, so anything I share is as good as it gets for entertainment!” 

“I don’t believe you!” Aziraphale hissed, “After all those threats, and ‘shut ups’ and ‘my lot don’t send rude notes’ and you were just-”

“I didn’t share anything then!” Crowley defended, “But I started after because no world without you is worth living in!” 

The rant Aziraphale had been building to died on his lips. “I - oh, really?” He blinked, and Crowley groaned. 

“Bless the people that don’t tell you otherwise,” He groaned, pulling Aziraphale into another hug. “After Paris I started hinting that I may have been … ‘tempting’ an angel this whole time, and that he would prove… ‘helpful’ in the war to come.” 

“No more than I ever tempted you,” Aziraphale muttered, and Crowley made a noise of agreement. 

“Absolutely Angel,” He agreed, “But that’s why Hastur and the others look at you like they do. An Angel, unafraid to talk with demons, who’s done clever tempting and demonic miracling? It’s practically porn for them, no really,” Crowley pressed when Aziraphale scoffed. “It’s damn near irresistible. Beezlebub even said if I didn’t put any sort of claim on you I’d have competition once you got down here.” 

“As if I’d choose anyone else,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Crowley grinned and kissed him for that. 

“It’s not quite that simple,” He warned, “You’re still an Angel in Hell. Beelzebub did me a favor by introducing you as my consort, which we’ll owe them for, but other demons will have to _know_ _you_ as _mine_.” 

Aziraphale shivered pleasantly. “Well, then, by all means,” He says, giving Crowley a kiss of his own, “_ know me _ my love.” 

In that moment Crowley swooped in and _ claimed _ Aziraphale against himself. The Angel felt like the cover of the harlequin romance novels that Crowley had bought for him as a joke years ago ( _ which had been one of the few ways he learned about sex until he got the demon to give him a _ practical _ lesson _) 

Crowley led them into the last room, which had to be the bedroom. It reminded Aziraphale of the bed in his old flat in London, complete with the enormous bed and all the pillows the angel liked. Not that he really got much time to take in the room, because Crowley was pushing him down and climbing on top of him. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered to him, reaching up to push off Crowley’s jacket. Or, he tried. Crowley growled, seizing his wrists and pinning them above his head. 

“I need you to be _good_ for me - can you be _good_ for me?” Crowley growled. Aziraphale took in a gasping breath. 

“I - yes - always good for you, my dear, you know that,” He promised. 

“Good boy,” In contrast to his sharp action and tone, Crowley placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I _ need _ to have you tonight, to _ claim _ you. Don’t worry, it’s nothing more then we’ve done before, and I’ll be just as good to you as you are sweet for me. And you are _ so _ sweet to me, my darling Angel.” 

A whine escaped Aziraphale’s throat. They didn’t often engage with this kind of play - had just started really - but Crowley knew just what to say to make him _ swoon _ . Already he could feel that warm feeling - like drinking the perfect hot cocoa - settle deep in his chest and slowly spread out. Everything felt so _ light _ , so _ wonderful _. Like he could just drift away forever. 

“You’re so good to me,” Crowley whispered, “You put so much trust in me, and I promise you’ll always have reason to trust me.” He kissed his way down Aziraphale’s neck, pausing to work at a particularly sensitive spot with his teeth until Aziraphale let out a moan and gasp. 

Somehow - and Aziraphale was starting to get beyond words, let alone intricate thought - their clothes had been miracled away. Crowley lowered his head, and gave a positively _ demonic _ grin at the body below him. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called out. The demon gave a low hum, but otherwise didn’t look up from where he was occupied - in teasing the angel’s nipple into a firm pebble. One of his hands played with the other one while Aziraphale _ writhed _ below him. 

There was no rush, no one walking by, and if anyone outside these rooms could hear, all the better for Crowley’s purposes. He teased until Aziraphale trembled below him, and then only leaned up to give him a moments chance to catch his breath before switching his mouth to the other nipple, not being afraid to use his teeth to give gentle _ bites _to the sensitive spots. 

Below him the angel leaked, and Crowley snaked one of his unoccupied hands to tease at his opening. 

“You’re getting nice and ready for me,” He grinned, “I can feel you opening up for me. You really are being so _ good _ for me.” 

Aziraphale moaned, loudly, but knew better than to beg. Crowley continued to slither down his body, placing gentle kisses to his belly before dipping below for a _ taste _. 

For a moment, Aziraphale nearly forgot himself and almost bucked his hips into Crowley, but remembered at the last second to hold still with a gasp that sounded like a sob. 

“Shhh, shhh,” Crowley mock-soothed, placing his hands on his angel’s hips to guide him back down, “There’s a good boy, you know to hold still for me.” He watched Aziraphale nod above him, and he smiled wickedly. 

Crowley went back in with his mouth, ruthlessly using his fingers and tongue. He was rewarded by Aziraphale releasing, and the demon allowed him to grind his hips into his face. For a moment, he paused to let Aziraphale catch his breath, kissing his way back up his body, where the Angel begged him through whimpers to kiss him. 

As they did, he slowly reached down with one of his hands to prepare the Angel. To his delight, Aziraphale kept his hands exactly where he had asked, though he could see the strain it took. 

“My sweet Angel,” He cooed, placing kisses along his face and neck, “Being so good for me tonight, knowing exactly what I need.” Aziraphale gasped, nodding. 

“_ Y-yours _,” He whispered, and Crowley nodded. 

“That’s _ right _ you’re _ mine _,” with that, he slid into his love, who merely sighed when Crowley entered him, “And I’ll protect you down here, up there, wherever we go.”

No way would any demon try to lay claim on his Angel now. Even if no one could hear them - though Crowley was sure someone could, all quarters down here were cramped, no matter how large his were - the power generated from them would make it clear what they were doing. All demons down here would know that Aziraphale was his and his alone. 

That urged his hips to drive faster into his love, and spurred him into his own release. He refused to let that stop him, and didn’t stop thrusting until he felt Aziraphale tremble around him for a second time. For a long moment, he didn’t move - he simply stayed over the Angel, looking down on him in wonder. 

“You’re my perfect Angel,” He whispered, placing a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. Crowley leaned up, gently running a hand through Aziraphale’s hair. He miracled away their own spend, and gathered his angel into his arms. Crowley was hyper-aware that Aziraphale wasn’t cognizant of what was _ actually _happening. His angel flopped into his arms, simply trying to burrow into him with keening noises. He shushed him again, stroking along his hair and back to try and coax him into sleep. 

“Rest now,” He murmured, “Tomorrow is a full day of court.” 

Not to mention the rest of the war that was left. 

  



	4. A New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of a demon, and his angelic lover, and his angelic lover's fans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're going to start getting into some of the plot! I am really excited for the transition this chapter will give us.
> 
> And I cannot stress this enough, the support this story has gotten has really and truly moved me. You are all incredible, and I thank you so much for that. Feel free to send asks, requests, anything to my Good Omens blog, GoodOmensAndRecreation (and please excuse how poorly designed it is)

Aziraphale is nothing if not resilient. He and Crowley were able to work out a routine of sorts in their new surroundings. 

After that first night, they had a half-day’s reprieve. Aziraphale woke slowly, loving the feeling of Crowley’s arms cradled around him -  _ especially _ after the night they’d had. He felt Crowley’s hands gently urging him awake by stroking his back, kissing the top of his head, and for a moment he forgot where they were. 

When the demon coaxed him into a bath moments later, and Aziraphale didn’t recognize the tub that occupied an absurd amount of space, it came rushing back to him. 

“I need to know what  _ exactly _ you’ve told everyone down here about me,” He said as Crowley spread shampoo into his hair. The angel was sitting sideways, on his lap, leaning against his chest. 

“Not right now Angel,” Was his reply. 

Aziraphale could respect him wanting to keep moments with  _ them _ to being about  _ them _ , and didn’t press him. They emerged from the bathtub, dressed, and went about their day as if they weren’t currently living in a Prince’s quarters in the deepest pit of Hell. 

For the first time in his memory, Aziraphale actually felt  _ hungry _ . When he mentioned that out loud, Crowley didn’t seem surprised by the admission.

“It takes energy to be Down Here, for you,” He said, moving to pull things out of the kitchen and light the stove. In the three years, they both took up cooking when they traveled - making pasta in Italy, learning how to actually make sushi in Japan, anything and everything they had ever enjoyed together. Aziraphale took a liking to baking, enjoying long moments of waiting for dough to rise to catch up on reading. Crowley enjoyed anything he could cook over a flame - the more pots involved, the better. 

Aziraphale decided to set the table while he worked, and haphazard a guess as to where Crowley would have thought to keep plates. He was delighted to be right, and did a little triumphant wiggle. 

“It’s why,” Crowley continued, and bless ( _ damn _ ?) him, he was making _ blueberry pancakes _ because they were one of the Angel’s top favorites. They’d enjoyed them in American Diners, “It’s important that you don’t actually forget to eat and sleep here. You’ll be fine as long as we remember that.” 

“Is that why we slept so much, when we were traveling?” Aziraphale asked, but he wasn’t really asking - expecting to know the answer. Despite Crowley’s admission that he hadn’t  _ really _ put the plan together until the 1950’s, he could start seeing how Crowley laid the groundwork in the details in hindsight. Especially in the last few years. 

Crowley nodded. “It was a good habit to get you into. And we always ate when we met, so increasing the frequency wasn’t exactly some great hardship.” He wasn’t wrong, so Aziraphale didn’t disagree.

“So, I understand that you wanted us to be  _ here _ ,  _ together _ , after Paris. But when did you start  _ telling  _ everyone Around Here about… us?”

“Around the M25 construction. The Usher had found us meeting in St. James, and they pulled me down to answer to the King. Turned out they had all these  _ photos _ of us meeting over the millenia, and gave me moments to explain myself before I lost all Title and Ranking.” 

(“ _ My lot don’t send rude notes _ ”)

“So, I lied. I told them that I had spent the last thousands of years working on tempting you, like I mentioned last night, corrupting you, trying to get you to fall. But when I  _ ‘realized’ _ it wouldn’t work, I…  _ tweaked  _ what the Arrangement meant.

“I told them I was convincing you into performing temptations, and told them the ‘best part’ was that you were ‘claiming it’ for heaven. At  _ first _ ,” And here he gave an unfortunate cringe, “They laughed about it, thinking you were ridiculous. That changed pretty quickly, the more I started telling them about some of what we  _ actually  _ got up to.” 

Aziraphale tried to withhold judgement. The thought of being laughed at stung, but not nearly as much as he thought it would. It had made sense - of  _ course  _ demons thought the work he did was ridiculous. Besides, it turned out the Angels didn’t care much for the work he did anyway. 

“I started with explaining the sword, how you gave it away to the people. They  _ loved  _ that idea - how you armed humanity with an angelic weapon and they used it to start War. And  _ then  _ I told them that you were able to ward off Her suspicion when she  _ directly  _ asked you, and you became rather infamous down here, which is a  _ good  _ thing,” He rushed to clarify. 

“Hastur asked me,” Aziraphale said slowly, his mind reeling at the fact that everyone Down Here knew about the  _ sword _ and it made him some sort of  _ celebrity _ . “About the Paris story.”

Crowley snorted and shook his head. “Hastur  _ lives  _ for that story. No one down here gets cable, so there’s no real understanding of dramatic irony, suspense, or real storytelling. None of Shakespeare’s stuff is known here.  _ You _ know all the tropes,  _ book nerd  _ that you are,” And Aziraphale doesn’t even offer a protest, because Crowley’s ‘ _ book nerd _ ’ remark is said with the same inflection as he says ‘ _ I love you’ _ , “So all the twists they think you came up with.” 

“Arguably  _ I _ came up with them before  _ Will  _ did,” Aziraphale said, and this was a conversation they’d had before and didn’t have time for right now. 

“Right. They also think you helped me drop the bomb on the Church to crush the Nazis - that’s a popular story here too, because it involves the destruction of a church and the destruction of Nazis. I don’t come across too great, to be honest, because I  _ walked  _ into that Satan-forsaken place.” 

“So, any temptation I did… they think is  _ interesting _ ?” Aziraphale clarified. 

“That’s like saying you think crepes are only  _ good _ ,” Crowley shook his head, “Angel, you’re a  _ celebrity _ to them. You’ve been able to  _ thwart _ and  _ tempt _ , and not even Fall! You  _ lied _ to Her, and She just finds you  _ endearing _ . It made the fools Upstairs treat you poorly, but I’m not kidding when I said I’d have to fight them off you with a stick.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help the resulting blush. “Oh! You - you - wily -” 

“Yes,  _ yes _ , I’m a  _ wily serpent _ ,” Crowley waved off, but he was grinning. He leaned forward to kiss Aziraphale over their pancakes, and the angel hoped Crowley knew how fortunate he was that Aziraphale would kiss him with such delectable food in front of him.

( _ Crowley knew _ )

\----

After breakfast comes Court. As a Prince, Crowley is expected to hold Court with Beelzebub while their king commands armies across the Earthly battlefield. 

“I’ve skipped one too many Courts,” Crowley admits, and Aziraphale is treated to the rare sight of him adjusting a ceremonial robe and actually holding up a small crown. For all that Aziraphale cares for and maintains his own clothing, he’d never seen Crowley give the same kind of deference. The demon usually preferred relying on miracles to adjust whatever he wore to fit whatever his desired aesthetic was. 

He looked rather dashing in this get-up, that is to say. 

“What goes on at Court?” Aziraphale asked. There was nothing for him to prepare, so he enjoyed himself watching Crowley. 

“Similar to what you saw last night. Bee and I share what The Dark King is planning, sometimes we hear out requests from Dukes, or Lords. Plan out a strategy to deal with Upstairs.” 

The two take their leave to walk arm-in-arm to the throne room. Aziraphale let himself lean into Crowley, “Is there anything you need from me in there?” 

“Just look refined My Angel,” Crowley murmured, his lips brushing over his ear. “You’ll notice the looks today, if you could lean back into me when you do that would make me  _ very happy _ .” 

“Well I’d love to make you happy.” Aziraphale grinned at him. 

Crowley stops him just before the walk in, where Dagon is waiting outside. The Lord of the Flies eyes Crowley, who gives him a nod. The other demon clears their throat and calls out, “Rise, for Prince Crowley and Future Prince Consort, Principality of the Eastern Gate, and Trickster on Earth Aziraphale.”

“ _ Honestly _ that’s such a mouthful,” Aziraphale whispers breathlessly, embarrassed by the way he blushes at the absurd title. 

“Get used to it,” is all the advice his demon returns, and Aziraphale’s blush worsens at the pride he hears in Crowley’s voice, and  _ sees  _ in his eyes when he chances a glance at him. 

Crowley sits in the same throne from yesterday, and motions for Aziraphale to take the same seat in front of him, just like the time before. Feeling more at ease, Aziraphale lets himself take in smaller details that he didn’t notice last time. The stool is ever so slightly lower than the throne behind him, in a subtle way to encourage him to lean back so his legs don’t curl uncomfortably. He can’t help but wonder if it’s the design, or a subtle miracle from Crowley so he can lean against the demon. Either way, he doesn’t mind. As they make themselves comfortable, Beezlebub is announced. But before Aziraphale goes to stand, Crowley places a hand on his shoulder. Apparently they don’t  _ have  _ to stand, though Crowley does offer a courtesy nod to his companion. Beezlebub imitates the gesture, and turns to address the crowd before them. 

“I’ve received word from our King of Darkness, Head Demon of the Bottomless Pit, and Ruler of the Damned and Tortured Souls - progress is being made on the War With Above. They understand we have the archangel Sandalphon, and without his power they are forced into a defensive position!”

This is met with a series of cheers, and ‘ _ Hail Satans’ _ . Even Crowley gives a drawling, “ _ Hail Satan _ ,” uttered in a careful casual tone. Aziraphale risks looking back at him with a smile. Their eyes meet, and Aziraphale isn’t prepared for the fond look sent his way. Crowley honestly seems so relaxed - it’s such an  _ unusual  _ disposition for his demon that Aziraphale struggles for a moment to put the name to the casual air Crowley is exuding. It suits him.  _ Power  _ suits him. 

Beelzebub quiets down the cheers and takes their seat. When the volume lowers once again, Crowley turns to them, but not bothering to lower his voice before the crowd. 

“It’s worth noting that they may try and attempt a rescue,” Crowley said. “We’ll have to place guards outside his cell.” 

“We already have demons in there for the sport of it,” Beezlebub shot back, “Not to mention we need every fighter Above.” 

There’s a terse silence for a moment, where both regard the other. For a moment, no one dares to break the stalemate. 

“I’ll guard him!” One of the demons in one of the surrounding chairs calls out. Both Princes eyed the volunteer. 

“Remind me who you  _ are  _ again?” Crowley drawled, absentmindedly stroking Aziraphale’s arm. 

“Lord Andras, my Prince,” The demon, Andras, introduces himself with a bow.

“Alright, Lord Andras,” Crowley said, “You’ll stand post, with my thanks behind you. And who else?” 

Emboldened, a few other demons volunteer, and a few promise to rope in others that aren’t currently in the room. With each volunteer, Crowley offers his thanks, and calls to Dagon to make a note for a future rotation schedule that he would have to make later. 

So caught up in the process, Aziraphale let himself lean further back, genuinely relaxing into the demon behind him. Emboldened, Crowley wrapped an arm around him. 

“And what about  _ him _ ?” Called out a new voice. Aziraphale glanced over to see another demon, a Lord, based on the fact he had a chair. The angel also noticed that the comment was directed at  _ him _ . 

Voices murmured around them, and a few shifted nervously. Crowley narrowed his eyes. “What  _ about  _ him?” He repeated. 

“Well, you said the you and the Angel brought him here as a gift for bein’ away,” The demon was standing now, making his way in front of the thrones. “But how can we be sure he-” and here he pointed at Aziraphale, “Isn’t just gonna sneak him out in some kind of double cross!” 

Several things happen at once. 

Quite a fair amount of demons call out, their voices intelligible. Some are agreeing with the lord, while others, like Hastur, are calling out insults for doubting “The great trickster”. 

Crowley snarls, his arm tightening around Aziraphale as he prepares to Put The Fear Of Crowley in the poor fool.

Yet it’s Aziraphale’s reaction that halts all other action. 

He laughs. 

It starts as a hysterically nervous gut-reaction, at first. A ‘ _ I can’t believe what I’m hearing, that’s ridiculous _ ’ kind of laugh. Pretty quickly it becomes more genuine. The very idea that he and Sandalphon would work together after their history. 

“Angel?” Crowley said, slowly, sounding concern. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale took a few breaths to calm himself. “I, excuse me!” He paused for a moment, to collect himself, and then smiled back at that demon. “Forgive me, my Lord, but between rushed events of yesterday and today I  _ really  _ needed that laugh.” 

There was absolute silence. Ligur, from his spot behind Hastur, looked as if Aziraphale had announced he was to be the next Antichrist. 

“It’s just so  _ funny _ !” Aziraphale pressed on, looking around, beginning to feel horribly embarrassed, “The very  _ idea  _ that Sandalphon and I would work  _ together _ , in some sort of clandestine affair, especially now is just the funniest thing to me! He has no finesse, just straightforward, unimaginative smiting - honestly so boring,” He shuddered to think of it, “Really, it would serve humanity’s best interests for him to stay away.”

Aziraphale turned back towards the Lord who had accused him of a hidden loyalty, “So I can assure you, there’s no ulterior plan I have to get that fool out where he can  _ hurt  _ people. But I wouldn’t be much use just standing outside that Pit, I’m afraid.”

Beelzebub gave a pointed cough. “Lord Bane, sit down,” They ordered, and tried to shift the focus towards King Lucifer’s next great stand, and how many HellHounds they could get there in time. 

Crowley subtly pulled Aziraphale back against him. “That was  _ wonderful _ ,” He whispered, turning his head so only the angel could hear him, “The ones against us won’t know  _ what  _ to think now, and your fans are just more enamoured. I don’t know  _ what  _ to do with you.” 

Aziraphale gave a small snort. “Oh, I think you do,” he whispered, relaxing against Crowley once more. 

\----

Crowley had to stay after Court adjourned, but it was a strategy meeting that Aziraphale apparently couldn’t take part in. 

“Do you remember how to get back?” Crowley asked, as several demons began filing out of the room. Aziraphale nodded, hoping that was true. 

“I’ll be fine,” He smiled back at him, trying to portray a sense of confidence. Crowley took a breath, and finally looked back over at Beelzebub, who’d been trying to get his attention for the past several minutes. 

“I’ll see you later,” He promised, and leaned in to give him a good-bye kiss. 

Aziraphale made to leave, but found himself eagery accosted by Hastur, with Ligur trailing more sedately behind him. 

“That was incredible!” Hastur exclaimed, quickly marching to keep stride with the Angel. “I never would have  _ laughed _ at someone challenging me!”

“I would’ve just slaughtered ‘em,” Ligur growls, and it’s clear to Aziraphale that he is  _ not _ a fan of the Angel’s. 

“Well, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar-metaphorically speaking,” Aziraphale said, wincing a little. He wasn’t sure if honey would entice Beelzebub or Dagon, or even how to broach that idea. “And it was truly just a reflex, more than anything else.” 

Aziraphale doesn’t break his stride as he walks back in the direction of Crowley’s ( _ his and Crowley’s? _ ) quarters. Hastur doesn’t seem to want to leave him, and Ligur clearly doesn’t want to leave Hastur. 

( _ “They don’t get cable, or understand storytelling. What you’ve done is the most entertaining thing they get Down Here.” _ )

“How would you like to have some tea?” The words are out before he can stop them. He  _ is _ feeling peckish anyway, and Crowley said he needed to make sure he ate more Down Here. Ligur eyes him with suspicion, but Hastur looks delighted.

\-----

Hours later, Crowley finally trudges back to his quarters. King Lucifer, Adversary to the Almighty, Dark Lord of the Bottomless Pit, Angel of Chaos and Death, is bloody  _ obsessed _ with Los Angeles. 

It’s ridiculous. He and Beelzebub had to talk through logistics of a final showdown with archangels there, and it was incredible how dull talking through tactics could be. It made him regret his work on the cities’ infrastructure. Never should he have shown the King all the work he did on limited parking spaces, the 405, the 5, and private parking lots. 

It would be nice to go back to an In-n-Out with Aziraphale again though. 

He enters their home, calling out “Angel?” as he closes the door. 

“We’re in the library!” Aziraphale calls back. 

_ We _ ? 

Crowley heads in that direction, and stops dead in the entrance to the library. 

Aziraphale, Hastur, Ligur, and a couple demons Crowley can’t place at the moment - mostly other Lords - are all seated in different couches and chairs that had  _ not _ been there when Crowley designed the space. 

All had books in their laps, and, of fucking course, it was  _ Hamlet _ . 

“Do join us my dear,” Aziraphale smiled at him, patting the chair he was sitting in. It’s big enough to hold them both side-by-side, but it doesn’t stop Crowley from wrapping around him like the serpent he is. “Crowley and I,” He tells the crowd, “Attended one of the first shows of this play.” 

“Didn’t you convince him to make it a success?” A demon asks. 

“I did, Lady Legion, it was fair trade for handling some demonic work in Edinburgh.” 

“I can’t believe you convinced Prince Crowley to perform a Miracle and did Tempting!” Lady Legion said, and this was met by several nods. 

“He asked nicely,” Crowley said dryly, turning Aziraphale’s head to give a quick kiss. The angel smiles back at him.

“We made tea,” Aziraphale offers, gesturing to the table next to them. Crowley spies several finger-foods, biscuits, and other small snacks in addition to the tea. 

He can’t believe it. It’s a bloody demon  _ book club _ . 

But this is more relaxing than whatever War in Hollywood fantasy Lucifer has, so he gestures for Aziraphale to pass along the snacks. 

At least there’s food. 

\----

It becomes a semi-comfortable tradition over the next few days. They wake up, get ready together, and eat breakfast. Mostly, they trade off who cooks, and usually Aziraphale eats while Crowley watches and drinks coffee. 

They go to Court in the morning, and hear out the Deeds of the Day, Requests, and listen to Beezlebub recount what the Demon King wishes. No one challenges Aziraphale as openly as Lord Bane had, but Crowley knows not every demon supports having an Angel basically sit in his lap everyday. Most of them Lurk about it though, and demons usually need to be able to Lurk about something, or they go stir-crazy. 

In the afternoons, Crowley gets called into special sessions, so Aziraphale will trek back to their quarters. His little posse will follow him, and usually they’re still talking about books or events Aziraphale got up to by the time Crowley makes it back. 

He’ll then order everyone out, so they can dine together and have the rest of the evening. It’s a comfortable tradition, and for the first time in a very long time, Crowley feels calm. 

\----

The International Express man had enjoyed a lovely three year holiday after the impressive number of deliveries he had made when he was helping bring about the End Times. But, as with all things, the time for the vacation had ended, and he received his next assignment. 

His route took him into SoHo, in front of a building with the faded letters “A.Z. Fell and Co.” It was an old bookshop - but it was closed and vacated. Had been for some time. He double-checked the clipboard, but he was definitely in the right place. 

To his surprise, after placing a few sharp knocks to the front door, someone answered. 

“Package to this address,” He said, holding out a clipboard to be signed. 

“Thank you,” The owner said, giving him a smile. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

The delivery man tipped his hat. “It’s what we do.” He walked off, and made to go to his next delivery. 

Inside the abandoned bookshop, Michael eagerly opened the package, delighting at its contents. 

“We’ll use you well,” She cooed, as the sword burst into flames, as it was divinely intended to do, “We have an angel to save.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooohhhhhh oh no! What's going to happen next? (I promise there is a plan, and I promise it will be fun).


	5. Day to Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do our characters spend a rare day off?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never stop thanking everyone who has taken the time to read and comment and express their thoughts on this story. I appreciate each and every one of you, and your encouragement has been such a source of inspiration for me to update this as frequently as I have been.

Aziraphale would never get over the feeling of waking up surrounded by Crowley. His powers weren’t exactly as strong as they normally were on Earth - too many miracles would drain him.  _ That _ was an unpleasant discovery that first night. The more they talked about  _ Hamlet _ , the more Aziraphale felt himself drifting off, listing into Crowley’s side as he tried to keep talking. The demon kicked everyone out and they turned in early that night. 

“You miracled too many bloody sofas,” Crowley snapped, half-carrying, half-dragging him to bed. “We didn’t need more then just us.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Aziraphale had said, interrupting himself with a yawn, “to make allies if we’re going to be Down Here for a while. And  _ you _ said not everyone supported us.”

Any reply Crowley would have had was silent as the angel fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

There hadn’t been a need for so many miracles since then, and Aziraphale settled into their day to day. He busied himself with selecting different books, guessing  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray _ would make a fun choice after  _ Hamlet _ . ( _ Which it was _ .)

But they had reached a day where Court wasn’t in session, and they were in no rush to go anywhere. It seemed even Downstairs liked to rest on the seventh day. 

Which is what brought Aziraphale here, waking up surrounded by his own little pocket of love. He couldn’t sense it far and wide, but that may have had more to do with where they were then it was about his own powers. 

They had been working so hard, it was nice to just take a  _ break  _ together. Aziraphale twisted around, and enjoyed the sight of his love asleep. Before, Crowley always looked like he was thinking about something complicated - even in sleep. Now, the demon looked relaxed, and it was lovely. The angel bit back a sigh, but couldn’t help the smile that the sight brought to his lips. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Crowley growled, still not opening his eyes. “It’s too early.”

Aziraphale reached out with one hand to brush along his hair - getting longer, which he  _ adored _ . “I’m just thinking about how much I love you,” he said, forcefully keeping his voice casual. He leaned in for a kiss, which Crowley returned. A wicked thought came to him then. 

“Afterall,” He said, non committedly, “You’ve protected me, for far longer than I ever knew, helped set me up Down Here for success, and have been so wonderful when I’ve hosted people, you’ve been down right-”

“Oh don’t  _ even go there _ -”

“ _ Nice _ ,” Aziraphale grins. 

In a flash Crowley grabs him and they roll over, until Crowley is on top of him. 

“You  _ brat _ ,” Crowley leans down and kisses him deeply, grinning when they pull away. He looks absolutely  _ demonic  _ and  _ delighted _ . “Do I have a brat on my hands today?” 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Aziraphale responds primly, but his eyes light up, betraying his faux-innocence act. “I’m never a brat.” 

Crowley leans down to have at his neck, placing well-intended kisses and bites that make the angel sigh. His hands wander south, squeezing at his sides, his stomach, his ass. Aziraphale moans appreciatively, squirming, and then crying out at a well-placed  _ bite _ . 

“You  _ are  _ a brat,” Crowley whispers, kissing a path down his body. He revels in the way Aziraphale’s back arches when he takes him in with his mouth. 

_ But you’re my brat.  _

\----

Three years ago, when the packed up their lives in London to travel the world, neither had given much thought to what would happen to the bookshop. Crowley had assumed that the other demons would have used his old apartment to continue their work ( _ and he was right _ ) but he had been in too much of a rush for them to enjoy the time they had to really think about the  _ shop  _ part of the bookshop. 

With hindsight, this was a mistake. Because the archangels had considered the building theirs, and with the Principality leaving it (out of sight out of mind) it meant that they got to use the shop for their basis of operations.

And Aziraphale never thought of a forwarding address, because in his millenia of existence he never had a reason to forward any kind of mail. 

All this is said to explain how a flaming sword wound up in the care of Michael. 

This sword is also not attuned to Aziraphale - it exists to be a sword. It’s function is, to quote the show Crowley helped develop, stick something with the pointy end. 

Not that the Angels have seen Game of Thrones - Crowley is truly an artist unappreciated in his time. 

Michael thinks none of this. Instead, she takes the sword triumphantly into the backroom, where Gabriel and Uriel await her. 

“We have lost Sandalphon, but sources tell me that he’s been taken prisoner - not Ended,” Uriel reports to them both. 

“They probably have him in a Pit,” Gabriel adds, his mouth twisting unhappily. Michael nods in agreement. 

“Their forces are spread wide, scattering us about the planet.” Uriel adds, “We need Sandalphon to enact some proper smiting.” 

“We have the sword now,” Michael says, “And I can get us into Hell. When I was last there I took the time to find the secret entrances.” 

“I’ve heard a disturbing rumor that the Demon Crowley was actually a Prince, like Beelzebub,” Uriel said, and Gabriel gaped at them. 

“A Prince? No, no way,” Gabriel snorted, “Not possible. We wouldn’t have put Aziraphale here to thwart a  _ Prince _ .” 

“I’ve heard similar rumors,” Michael agreed, “We’ll enact justice against him later, not while there’s a war to fight.” 

It made the Principality’s crime that much worse - he had been playing double-agent against  _ them _ to a royal figure. 

Gabriel shook his head, “It doesn’t matter - we don’t care,” But he was saying this to convince himself, not them, so neither angel replied, “We just need to get to Sandalphon first, and then win the war.”

“Agreed,” The other two chorused. 

\-----

As he comes to, Aziraphale can hear Crowley shouting at his plants to ‘grow better’. The angel just sits for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the mattress below him and sheets above, but it’s not as enticing to lie in without the demon. 

He’s also pretty hungry, and is rather craving crepes. 

The angel pulls on a robe, more for the sake of comfort, and ties it loosely. In all honesty, he expects it to become undone after… goodness it’s practically lunch time! 

Aziraphale makes quick work of the batter, and as he stands over the pan he feels Crowley come up from behind him. 

“Glad you’re up,” The Demon pecks his cheek, “Guess I really wore you out, didn’t I?”

“I’m not going to stroke your ego,” Aziraphale answers back primly, and Crowley gives a delighted grin.

“I’ve got something else you can stroke,” is his reply, and he moves out of the way before Aziraphale can retaliate. He laughs and moves off to make himself useful by setting the table. 

They tuck in at the breakfast nook, which is where they take nearly every meal, due to the fact that they can eat and lean on each other. 

“I feel like we are wasting a perfectly nice dining area,” Aziraphale says, but makes no motion to actually relocate. Crowley shrugs. 

“Well, seems like a lot for just us, yeah.” 

“But what if we hosted?” Aziraphale suggests.

Crowley stares at him, “What - host a demonic  _ supper party? _ The book club boring you already angel?”

“It does not  _ bore _ me,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, “But if you’re a prince, won’t you need to, oh I don’t know,  _ host _ a meeting? We went to so many diplomat meetings and dinners over the years, and all this time you  _ were _ one. Aren’t you expected to?” 

“I… never really had to. Never stayed Down Here long enough for any of that,” Crowley shift, curling around him. “Now that you mention it, I probably have to, yeah.”

“And another thing, I’m not sure what my role is here, long-term. If there even is a long-term Down Here.” 

Crowley swallowed. “I… I mean… I’m not sure. I knew this was the safest place for us, now that they’re all fighting each other. Angels aren’t exactly going to converge down here. But after, ideally things go back to the way they were and maybe we go back up.” 

Aziraphale takes another bite. “But we don’t know how long the fighting will be. You are right, I don’t think we would get protection anywhere else. But I’m wondering about strengthening the bonds with allies, and if there is anything I could be doing more of  _ don’t say it _ .” 

The demon closed his mouth. 

After a few more bites, Aziraphale continued. “I think maybe I should patrol by Sandalphon’s Pit.” 

“Absolutely bad idea.” Crowley rejected. 

“I wouldn’t go alone, of course,” Aziraphale waived away, ignoring the sarcastic ‘of course’ that Crowley muttered, “I would take at least Hastur. Ligur would probably come too, and we wouldn’t stay for long.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Crowley snapped, “I do all this work to keep us  _ safe _ , and you want to go near someone who  _ beat you _ ?” 

“You’re overreacting!” Aziraphale exclaimed, “You’re making a big deal out of nothing because I’m coming up with an idea without you.” 

“Oh! I’m overreacting?” Crowley gets up, furious. “I’m trying to keep you  _ safe- _ ”

“You’re keeping me cooped up like some sort of  _ pet _ !” Aziraphale shoots back. “You think I don’t see that? You think I don’t know what the others are saying about me? That I’m some sort of lap-dog that you keep around because my corporation is pretty?”

“Who’s telling you that?” Crowley growls, “Tell me and I’ll rip them apart.”

“I don’t need you to rip them apart, they’re just jealous!” Aziraphale snapped, “But that’s the point - I’m more than some pretty angel with a meaningless title of ‘future consort’.”

Crowley looks enraged. “That’s not  _ meaningless _ !  _ Obviously _ we’re not getting married while there’s a war going on!”

“We’re not getting married because you  _ never asked _ ,” Aziraphale cried out, “and neither did I! I didn’t think we were ready!”

“We’ve known each other for thousands of years, what do you mean  _ not ready _ ?” 

“So you just decided we should be engaged by announcing as such to a room full of strangers - like you’ve been announcing our Arrangement for decades!” 

The demon shakes his head. “I’m not having this argument right now,” he mutters, beginning to pace. 

But Aziraphale has had enough also. “You don’t have to, I’m going out.” 

“Going out?” Crowley looks over at him, but Aziraphale has already  _ snapped _ and miracled himself into clothing. “Out  _ where _ ?”

“To take a walk and clear my head!” 

The door is open and slammed before Crowley can register what just happened. Not once had he ever seen Aziraphale  _ miracle _ clothing onto himself before. He places too much love and attention on the textiles that humans make. It proves how frustrated he is. 

Only Crowley already yelled at his plants once today, so he decides to work out his own frustration by cleaning the kitchen. At first he’s angry, ranting out loud as to why he has to love someone so clever yet stupid - how could he want to go near someone who had tried to hurt him? He replays the argument in his head, but the more he does his indignation turns to guilt. 

Aziraphale may have been onto something. It wasn’t a bad idea to try and curry favor with the Court, and pretending to take on a ceremonial guarding position - armed and guarded, of course - wouldn’t be a bad way to do it. 

And he was right about the future consort thing, too.

Of course Crowley meant to ask. He almost five times in the last year. Just, no moment had been perfect enough for him to  _ do it. _ But instead he let Beelzebub talk him into introducing his angel like that, for both their sakes. Not that it was their fault, not really, but still. Maybe he would ask tonight, when Aziraphale got back. He could get rose petals, and lead them like a trail into the library. The angel had been so  _ happy _ to see the library here, because it helped him understand that Crowley meant for this to be a safe space for them both. Then he could sweep him off his feet, like in the novels he pretended not to read, and they could end the night in bed. 

He should probably make sushi for the occasion. Aziraphale always got emotional when he cooked something with precision, because it showed that he was really putting the time into it. 

With that in mind, Crowley rolled his sleeves back and got to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for where we are going in this story :) If you want to chat with me about this fic, any other fic, or Good Omens in general please reach out to my tumblr, GoodOmensAndRecreation! I'll be accepting prompts to fill when I complete this story - so go ahead and request something if you wish.


	6. The Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale goes to clear his head, but at a cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone, as always, for your encouragement and your kind words. It really helps me in the energy to keep writing and seeing the story to the end. 
> 
> When I started to write this story, there were several images that gave me the inspiration that I wanted to make sure made their way into the story. 
> 
> The first was the idea of Crowley in the throne with Aziraphale by his side. 
> 
> This chapter includes another image that I really wanted. I can't seem to find the fanart it's based off of, but I'll describe it at the end of the chapter you may know what I mean. 
> 
> I also want to promise that there will be a light.

When Aziraphale storms out, his anger fuels enough adrenaline for him to get a good distance away before it fades. He stops for a moment to rest against the wall. Miracling the clothing had been a bad idea, but didn’t want to  _ stay there _ any longer. 

The righteous anger fades pretty quickly to embarrassment. The angel had been feeling all those emotions, yes, but it wasn’t anything that he had meant to address quite so suddenly, or like that. His temper had just gotten the best of him, and when Crowley just so quickly dismissed his request like that, it reminded him of how heaven cared so little for the ideas and blessings he performed. Maybe patrolling Sandalphon wasn’t the best idea, but he was feeling rather kept by playing along with Crowley’s rules, and trying to fit in in Crowley’s society that he needed to contribute  _ something _ . 

But pride prevents him from turning around, and instead he presses on. That dreaded burning sensation begins to rise in his chest - anxiety over the way he snapped at his love. Crowley didn’t deserve that. They should have had a measured conversation over Aziraphale’s feelings of inadequacy. Instead… he overreacted. It wasn’t the first time in their relationship they had fought, and in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t even their worst fight. But the memory of their worst fight does enter his mind. 

(“ _ There is no our side! It’s over _ !”) 

He shudders at that, and the burning feeling intensifies, making him nauseous. Aziraphale pushes himself off of the wall, and keeps walking. Maybe, if he gave it a little while longer, Crowley wouldn’t be quite as mad and he’d get a chance to apologize. 

Aimlessly he takes random pathways, no one stopping to try and speak with him. There are whispers, of course, but he must look as miserable as he feels to have no one approaching him.

That is, no one except for Hastur. 

“Hey Aziraphale!” For a moment, part of the angel feels exasperation, and not the endearing kind that he normally gets around the Duke. Hastur tends to require a lot of energy, and with all of the activity he and Crowley got up to, and the miracling before he stormed out, he’s not really feeling up to it. 

But it’s one thing to not be in the mood, and another to be rude, so he stops to allow Hastur to catch up. He bades him a hello, and another hello to Ligur, who is with him as always. The three stride together, Ligur trailing behind them both, as he usually does. 

“How are you today?” Aziraphale asks, deciding to make polite conversation. 

The Duke shrugs. “Bored out of my fucking mind, wishing we could just go up and  _ fight _ already.” 

“We haven’t been summoned,” Ligur adds on in his usual growl, “I’d give someone’s left arm to be allowed out.” 

Hastur’s language had thrown him (he wasn’t used to the candid nature of demons) but he couldn’t help but sympathize with their words. 

“I think we’re all feeling a little cooped up,” he acknowledged, “What do you normally do when waiting for orders?”

“We’ve been going to your place to read for a bit,” Hastur says, “We could do that?”

“We  _ used _ to go to the pits,” Ligur says, and Aziraphale knows reading  _ isn’t _ one of his hobbies, “It’s been  _ forever _ since we went there.” 

“Well, we’ve been reading for a while now,” Aziraphale says quickly, eager not to go back just yet, “So why don’t you show me these pits?” 

Ligur gives him a rare smile. He pushes forward to lead them in a new direction, and Aziraphale tries not to think about the rising temperature and feeling of desolation. He had, after all, been with Crowley on the M25, and this was just a lot like that. 

As if he were a tour guide, Ligur proudly showed off the different pits that held history’s greatest sinners. A few demons surrounded them, jeering insults and throwing rotten food. There were more demotivational posters around, and the lights flickered like poorly lit office. Very suitable demonic. He said as much to Ligur, who looked pleased that it was recognized. 

“We should show you where the other angel is,” Hastur added, “You haven’t been down here before, after all.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want us to go out of the way,” Aziraphale rushed to say. Now that he was here, he could understand Crowley’s desire to keep him away. Perhaps coming here wasn’t the best idea. 

Ligur narrowed his eyes. “You should, afterall, you and Prince Crowley brought him in, and you haven’t been by once.” 

Aziraphale let his face go blank, but his internal panic escalated. “Alright then,” he said, “Show me.” 

They walk further into the pits, and that feeling of desolation and despair grows stronger. It belies that earlier feeling of anxiety, but Aziraphale almost wishes he could have that back over  _ this _ . There are no demons around them now, just empty literal pits. No prisoners even house them. It’s a secluded area, meant not to be too close to any human prisoners or residents. 

Two demons are standing outside the pit where Sandalphon is kept, both armed with swords, daggers resting at their hips. They nod as the three of them approach. Aziraphale recognizes one of them.

"Hello, Lord Andras," he greets. Lord Andras looks surprised, mostly likely because they hadn't seen each other since that day he volunteered. 

Lord Andras bids a hello.

"Is the prisoner giving any trouble?" Ligur asks, peering in with an impressive glare. 

The second demon, introduced as Lord Stolas, shakes his head. "Unfortunately not, he just sits there, almost like meditating."

Hastur, Ligur, and Andras all shudder. 

"That's just wrong," Ligur frowns, "He should be quaking in fear!"

"We're not to do anything yet, orders from the King," Andras exclaims, "eventually, we're supposed to be able to use his power in our next battle, and smite some of the Austrian mountains."

Aziraphale can't help but laugh. "King Lucifer's plan is to smite rolling hills, that happen to be the setting for  _ The Sound of Music _ ?" 

It's honestly too much. 

It's wonderful. 

"It's a morale blow," explains Stolas, who doesn't seem perturbed to find an Angel laugh, unlike Ligur who still looks like Aziraphale is a few feathers short of a full angel. And  _ maybe _ he has a point, because no normal angel would find Satan hilarious. 

But Aziraphale has never been a normal angel. Trying to be was only rewarded by dismissiveness and scorn. And the last three years he had away from the Host had been the time of his life. It didn't lessen his faith with Her - he still performed miracles to help people, still believe in Her Way and Her Divine Might, but realized it was management he had the issue with. Much like human youth that believed in a higher power but not their worshiping institutions. 

That was a little much to say out loud though, so he settles with, "A sound plan."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots movement. He turns his gaze to see what has caught his attention, and the sight makes his blood run cold. 

He can make them out clear as day. 

Gabriel. Uriel. Michael. 

His corporation’s heart is hammering in his chest. None of the others have noticed their yet, moving in the shadows as they are. It’s honestly impressive given how  _ bright _ their auras are. Aziraphale can identify a sword - his sword - in Gabriel’s grasp, and other weapons coated with something glistening. A droplet falls to the floor, and gives a faint sizzle. He gasps - they’re covered in Holy Water, and it’s part of their weapons. It’s in bottles he knows they have on them. They’re secluded where they stand, but the demons around him are in danger.

As he gasps, all turn to him. 

“What is it?” Hastur says, but when he turns to follow the angel’s gaze they’ve already vanished. 

Aziraphale shakes his head. He has maybe seconds to think of something. 

What would Crowley do?

Arm himself, and escape. But he can’t let rogue angels loose. And he knows what they are here for. Perhaps they are not above reason. 

“Angels are here,” He warns the others, “To attempt a rescue.”

All of them grin. “How cute,” Ligur sneers, “Let them try.” 

“Look, I saw them,” He says as the other get ready to fight, “They are armed with with Holy Water - it’ll destroy you all completely.” 

This gives Hastur and Ligur pause. They’ve both been held at Holy Water-Point before, and know that time travel won’t resurrect them this time. Hastur in particular looks at Ligur with a pain in his eyes Aziraphale intimately understands. 

“We can generate hellfire,” Hastur says, and Aziraphale nods.

“Do that, and run,” He holds out a hand to Andras, “Lord Andras, Holy Water will not destroy me, if I may be permitted to borrow your sword?” 

They are running out of time. Lord Andras hands the sword over, and Hastur snaps his fingers. 

Fire erupts behind Aziraphale, who takes a step in front of it. 

“Alert one of the Princes,” Aziraphale says, forcing himself to make his voice sound commanding. He orders this to Hastur and Ligur, who take off. 

“We’re going to stay here.” Stolas replies, adjusting his stance. Andras takes out a dagger and nods. 

“We promised you and Prince Crowley we would guard the prisoner.” Andras says. 

Never did Aziraphale think he could feel so much fondness for demons before - with the exception of Crowley, of course. 

It’s that fondness he forces himself to remember as he comes face to face with his former coworkers. 

They look stunned, and then furious to see him there. He must look quite a sight, standing flanked by two demon lords. 

“Hello there,” He offers, trying to give off an easygoing smile that does not convey the terror he feels. 

“Traitor.” Uriel answers, taking a fighting stance that make Andras and Stolas hiss. 

“Now, now, let’s not be hasty,” Aziraphale hastens to say, “There’s no need to fight.”

“Wrong,” Micheal snaps, and that’s all the warning Aziraphale gets before all three  _ strike _ . 

Andras rushes at Michael, and Uriel charges Stolas. It leaves Aziraphale to raise his sword with enough time to block Gabriel’s strike, managing to force him off. 

Aziraphale has not fought with a sword in hundreds of years, but the movement of dash, block, and parry isn’t too dissimilar from what it means to riding a bike. Namely, that he still can. 

Gabriel however has had more recent practise, and it’s all Aziraphale can do to keep himself from walking backwards into the fire. Aziraphale pushes forward, and catches a lucky blow that makes Gabriel cry out. The archangel cries out in fury, his purple eyes glowing. The hatred in them is alarming for him to see, but it strengthens his resolve. 

Their swords clash continue to clash, Aziraphale refusing to yield any ground. But he can’t bring himself to land a killing blow - or really seek out the opportunity to find one. This is a weakness but he can’t think through how best to compensate while fighting. 

Then he hears a terrible scream, and Aziraphale finds himself watching with horror as Michael successfully pins Andras to the ground, and starts pouring her Holy Water over him. It causes him to shriek in agony and burn, and Aziraphale finds himself crying out in compassion for him. 

What happens next happens too quickly. 

The sword that was once his lights on fire, and before he can move to block, Gabriel has buried it in his chest. 

Time stops for him. 

There’s a moment where breath escapes him, and all is silent. 

And then it’s blinding pain. 

Aziraphale chokes in agony, agony like nothing he had ever felt before. It’s impossible to breath, impossible to move, impossible to do anything. 

Distantly, he thinks he hears screaming, but all sound and sensation is dulled. Nothing exists except for the burning fire that has now literally  _ impaled _ him. 

Gabriel’s other hand grabs his shoulder, pulling him close. Leaning over him, a very small part of Aziraphale’s mind is caught up in the thought that when he and Crowley danced once, the demon dipped him, and it’s almost like what’s happening now. The archangel leans in, and Aziraphale struggled to take a breath. He can only manage a weak gasp. 

“This is what you get for fucking a demon, you miserable excuse for an angel,” His former boss snarls. 

There’s no room to think, to breathe, to speak. To reply. 

Distantly, Aziraphale hears faint gasps and knows that logically they are coming from him, but it’s all he can do to remain still and not slump from the sword that is  _ impaling  _ him. 

Gabriel gives him a cold smile, and yanks the sword back. It leaves his body with a disgusting  _ squelch _ , and Aziraphale collapses to the ground, trying to faintly gasp for air and  _ breathe _ . 

“And this time,” The archangel snarls as his vision starts to go dark and he begins to shiver, “Do your best to  _ shut your stupid fucking mouth, and die already _ .” 

With that, he spits at the ground in front of him and everything grows dark. 

And Aziraphale is alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry. 
> 
> I can and will and am prepared to answer any questions anyone has. 
> 
> EDIT: A lovely person on Tumblr, with the username: 'fightmeyoujerk' helped me find the fanart! Here is the link, to help add to the pain: https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186595824020/ill-die-on-the-hill-of-angels-bleeding. It's by Speremint, and credit where credit's due it's so wonderfully done and it h-u-r-t-s so much! 
> 
> And, as always, I can be messaged on Tumblr, either at 'LadyGryffinJew" or "GoodOmensAndRecreation".


	7. Queen of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reaches out for help, and the Demonic Mother has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first off I am SO SORRY for the pain of that last chapter - it hurt me too, I promise. But we are going to move in a really exciting direction, and I am really looking forward to where this is shifting towards. And that includes introducing a new character in this story that has me really excited :) 
> 
> And, of course, THANK YOU to everyone that has read, commented, kudos'd, everything. This has really helped keep my motivation and energy intact to make sure I tell the story. 
> 
> Because I am moving towards the end, I would like to open myself to prompts and requests, if anyone is interested in making them. They can be inspired by this universe, the cannon, anything really. You can go here or on one of my Tumblr's, LadyGryffinJew or GoodOmensAndRecreation.

_ They revisit Paris when Aziraphale asks Crowley The Question.  _

_ They’re standing outside the Bastille - neither feeling a particular desire to inside.  _

_ “I’ve, I’ve always wondered,” Aziraphale begins, turning toward Crowley, “How you knew I was in trouble.” _

_ “I’ve told you,” Crowley replies, wrapping an arm around his angel, “I have a sixth sense that let’s me know when your in danger.” _

_ The Principality snorts. “You and I both know that’s not a real thing.”  _

_ “No, really.” And Crowley wraps another arm around him. “When we signed the arrangement, I put a protection spell on you. When your in trouble, it feel like that one candy that fizzles and pops - do you remember what I’m talking about? The kids showed it to you.” _

_ “I think they’re called ‘poppers’,” Aziraphale tries to remember. Crowley shakes his head, but knows Aziraphale has the point. He keeps trying to remember.  _

_ “It’s like a bunch of those, and they all go off inside where my stomach would be,” He leans in, putting his face near Aziraphale’s to whisper in his ear, “That’s how I know my pet has gotten himself into trouble, and I’ve got to get him.”  _

_ Aziraphale tries to push him off, but there’s no mistaking the blush and grin, no matter how he tries to hide it. “We are in public you menace,” He hisses, but Crowley just laughs.  _

\-----

“Pop Rocks!” 

It comes to him two years later, but Crowley feels incredibly satisfied to no longer be searching for that errant thought. 

He resolves himself to tell Aziraphale later, after he’s proposed and they’ve made love and when they’re drifting off to sleep. The angel probably won’t remember, but Crowley will remind him and then he’ll laugh. It’ll be lovely. 

Of course that’s when the sensation comes back. And it’s powerful. Crowley grasps the edge of the counter, gasping loudly for breath. 

This can’t be good. 

A loud banging pounds on the door, and Crowley tries to ignore it to focus on the sensation. Where is it coming from? Where does he need to go? 

The banging doesn't stop - it only gets louder and Crowley can’t fucking think.

Furiously, he opens it intending to thrash whoever it is that’s distracting him, and that puts him face to face with Hastur and Ligur. 

And the intending yelling he had planned dies on his lips, because he can tell that the demons know exactly what he needs to know. 

Hastur only has time to say, “Angels are at the pits-” And Crowley has hurtled past them both, wings unfurling as he runs. They beat at his back and he hurtles himself toward his angel, offering a prayer that he isn’t too late. 

\-----

It’s important to note, at this moment, who Crowley is offering a prayer to.

When Humans pray, they offer a prayer to G-d. To some, that means praying to a manifestation of a male figure in a sky. Some people pray to an indescribable force that they believe holds the galaxy together. 

Crowley is not actually praying to G-d. 

Crowley is praying to his Demonic Mother, the Queen of Hell. Wife of Lucifer and Guardian of their realm. 

Crowley is praying to Queen Lilith. 

And strengthened by his time in Hell, and with his proximity, Lilith hears the prayer, and she understands.

It’s also important to note, at this point, who Lilith is. Before Eve, God made another woman intended to be the wife of Adam. But rejecting the role of servant. Lilith fell, becoming the first Fallen Women. She endeared herself to Lucifer, who took her as his wife and Queen of Hell. She, like her husband, prefers to leave the day to day work to her Princes (with whom she has a maternal relationship with, much like with all the demons she oversees) and spends her time with her love. 

Despite her maternal role, Lilith is not a kind woman. A kind woman does not make a good Queen of Eternal Darkness. But she is a fair woman, a woman who believes in justice. 

And a woman who believes in love. 

She had a soft spot for her Son Stationed On Earth, having monitored his status ever since Eden, when he tempted her best friend. And she watched him gradually fall in love with the Angel sent from Above. At first, she was resistant. In her mind, upstairs believed in subjugation and submission, and she didn't want that for her child. But over time, she realized that this one was different from the rest. A normal angel wouldn't have given away his weapon to protect fallen humans. A normal angel wouldn't have supported his child. A normal angel wouldn't have looked out for humans with enough compassion to be reprimanded for miracles. 

Aziraphale had proven himself worthy for her son. She would not have allowed him entrance to Hell otherwise. 

At this moment, she hears her prince call to her, and she listens. And she sees what has happened in her kingdom.

She is not pleased. 

\-----

Crowley raced to the pits, and the disaster before him takes him back to what was, up until this very moment, the worst day in his life. 

(" _ Someone killed my best friend _ !")

Aziraphale lies on the ground, blood pooled around him. A demon lies a few feet away, partially dissolved by Holy Water and definitely dead. Another demon is crouched over them both, and when their eyes meet Crowley's the mourning in then fills his every cell with terror. 

Someone screams. They're in pits where some of the worst humans on the planet are facing eternal damnation, but no one sounds more tortured in that moment that the person screaming. 

It's not until he collapses at Aziraphale's side that he realizes the screaming is coming from him. 

The Angel's eyes her closed, his face is a shade of pale akin to cream. It's a horrifying contrast to the red that has soaked into the clothing he loves so much. He reaches down to rest a hand on his Angel's curls, and he slides it down to hold his jaw. As he reaches down to feel for a pulse point, his own heart is stopped for what he will find. 

It’s there. It’s weak. But it’s there. 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” He whispers, but it’s unclear who he is thanking. 

"We tried to fight them off," the demon says, but Crowley isn't paying attention. A message is imprinting into his mind, from a voice he has not been in direct contact with for a long time. 

_ Go to your home. Keep him alive. I will help. _

_ Mother.  _

To explain what happens next, it is important to understand the nature of the magic held by the occult and ethereal forces. 

When in proximity to the Host, power increases. Further away, it decreases. In the time that Aziraphale and Crowley have been in Hell, they had both taken care to sustain Aziraphale’s Grace by making sure he ate and slept. Their time on Earth had helped them learn to rely on food and sleep to maintain energy. The angel and demon are truly unique, in that they have learned to create energy from sources no one else would think to consider. For the most part, Aziraphale’s power has been able to hold up, but it is a far cry from its full potential were he in heaven. Ane the direct opposition, Crowley’s power has strengthened in its intensity. 

It has been acknowledged that Crowley has one of the most powerful imaginations of any demon that has ever existed. When the World Almost Ended it was his sheer willpower that got him through a wall of fire to arrive unscathed to the Antichrist. And that was possible from minimal trips to the Head Office. But now he has been living in Hell, fully immersed in his full occult nature as a Demonic Prince. 

And it’s that power he draws on - the power of his will and desperation that Aziraphale  _ live _ .

Because he can’t fathom an existence without his Angel. 

He concentrates, focusing on the part of Aziraphale that exists, wounded, on a plane their eyes cannot perceive. And he steels his attention on the piece of him that humanity understands as the ‘heart’ ( _ though it’s a poor translation of what it really is) _ and commands it to  _ Stay Alive _ . 

Like a mantra, he repeats  _ Stay Alive _ as he lifts the Angel in his arms, and wills his wings to take them back to their home. He allows one stray prayer, one he has never made made before, to both his demonic mother and also to Her. 

_ Let him live. I can’t exist without him.  _

\---

The door to their home is opened, although Crowley cannot remember the journey there. Later, he will recall wings propelling him at a speed he did not think possible, baralling past demons that catch sight of the state of his angel and gape. 

He lands at his own entrance, and does not trip over rose petals that he had placed just moments before. He carries Aziraphale through the hallway, chanting his mantra to keep his heart beating, and enters the bedroom they had been in just hours prior. 

At the foot of the bed he sees his Demonic Mother, His Queen. The last time he had seen her was in the 1990’s, when she wanted his clarification of the rumours that he loved an Angel. Of course, he knew she had already known. But she wanted to know if the angel had been worthy. She had lifted his chin to meet her eyes, and she looked into his essence. What she saw gave him her blessing. 

Now she looks at him, and the pain he feels is reflected in her own eyes. 

“Lay him down,” She instructs, and he does. Aziraphale lies still on their bed, but Crowley can hear very faint breathing, and he continues to chant ‘Stay alive’ at the Angel below him. 

Lilith walks to the other side, where Crowley sees a bowl of water, with several cloths soaking inside. She snaps her fingers, and the clothing Aziraphale had on disappears from sight. Crowley refuses to look away, though the sight of the wound on his bare skin is the worst thing he had seen in his life. He refuses to stop chanting, and sits down, carding one hand through his hair, and holding the angel’s hand in his other one. The Queen sits next to him, her position mirroring Crowley’s, and slowly begins to press the cloths against the wound. 

There is a sizzle as it hits the angels skin, and Aziraphale unconsciously jerks forward in pain. 

“Hold him down,” Lilith instructs, and he is already pressing the angel down. Tears fall down his face as Aziraphale moans in agony, not even aware of what’s happening. He tries to keep his voice level, to coo reassurances, but he knows his own voice is faltering. And through it all, he chants, ‘Stay Alive’ to Aziraphale’s heart. 

Lilith preserves him his dignity by focusing on her task, and keeping the cloths away from Crowley, because he’s aware peripherally that she’s healing him with Holy Water. She isn’t a proper demon, not fully, so it does not affect her the way it would one of her Children. But she knows it would hurt Crowley, which meant she had always known about the switch, and she had let it happen. 

(A good, nice, mother does not have favorite children. Lilith is not a good person.)

Slowly, Crowley begins to see the wound close. The Queen returns all cloths to the bowl, which is now a horrible horrible red, and vanishes it with a snap, erasing any remaining moisture. She instructs him to raise the Angel, and begins to stich the wounds together. 

Crowley does his best to try and shush the resounded whimpers Aziraphale gives when he is jostled, and when the wound gets pierced as she brings the skin together. She switches to the other side, where the process begins anew and Crowley clutches Aziraphale to his chest tightly. 

Finally, finally, she begins to bandage him, and instructs him to lay the angel back down. 

For a moment, neither speak, and Crowley does his best to wipe away his own tears. She does not look at him. When he finally gives up and looks over, her eyes find his. They are a violet color. But a deep purple, with lavender surrounding her pupil. It’s a definition that holds his attention, they way it always has. 

“He will live,” She says, and nothing can prepare him for the sheer relief that statement causes. Crowley tries to hide his face, as more tears begin to fall, but she refuses to let him look away. 

“My child, you have given so much of yourself,” Lilith says. Her voice both echoes around the room, yet is delivered to him in a whisper. “Do not forsake your faith in your love. He is strong, you have chosen well. And he will return to you.” 

Her gaze sharpens, “And you two will reclaim what is rightfully yours.” 

\----

Lilith informs him that Aziraphale will need to rest for the rest of the day, and through the night. The next day, they will host a meeting, and she and her husband, the King, will be attending. 

“I will serve tea,” The Queen decides, rising to her full height. “I will take stock of this… dining room, that you built, and survey the options you and your Angel have provided. It will be nice to hold a meeting here. Lucifer has grown too used to meetings at generic coffee chains in Los Angeles.”

Her gaze softens when Crowley doesn’t offer an opinion, or make a face at her light-hearted attempt to rib on one of his pet creations. 

“I will remain close,” She promises. Lilith moves to his side of the bed, and shakes her head as he prepares to stand for her exit. She bends down to place a kiss on his forehead, and she leaves the room. 

\----

For the first few hours, Crowley sits and watches Aziraphale’s chest rise and fall, as proof that Lilith’s promise will come to pass. But just sitting still with his own thoughts has never been a wise course of action. So he makes a quick trip to Aziraphale’s library, and pulls down one of his books. 

“I didn’t get the chance to apologize to you,” Crowley says, as he sits back down on their bed. The irony of the role reversal is not lost on him. In the early days of their relationship, because he could convince the angel to give sleep a chance, Aziraphale used to sit against the headboard and read while Crowley would sleep next to him. The demon takes a shuddering breath. 

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you,” he continues, fussing with the angel’s hair, “But you mean too much to me for something to happen. It’s why I didn’t want you getting to involved. You were right though. You usually are. You’re so clever - too clever. And you’re too bloody  _ selfless,”  _ and here his voice begins to crack, “and I don’t deserve that.”

Aziraphale says nothing. Crowley takes a deep, and opens the book to the first page. “I’m going to keep reading until you wake up, I don’t care how many times that means I’m going to read  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray _ . Because I want you to know that I’ll do it everyday if that’s what it takes, for as long as you’ll have me. And when you wake up I’ll ask you properly to marry me, because that’s all I want.” 

He begins to read. 

\-----

He’s finished it, read it again, gone through it a third time, and is considering reviving Oscar Wilde with the intent to kill him again as he reads it a fourth time through when he hears a groan. 

Crowley looks down and bites down a gasp when he hears that groan for a second time. 

“Aziraphale? Angel?”

Slowly, he starts to see the angel regain consciousness. His closed eyes flicker, and his nose twitches. The intake of breath involves a movement in his shoulders, and it’s the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen. 

“C’mon Angel,” He whispers, running a hand through his hair, “Open your eyes for me, please.” 

There’s more movement on his face, and Crowley continues to beg and coax him into waking up, offering gentle coos and encouragements. Finally,  _ finally _ , his eyes weakly flicker open. 

Aziraphale makes a sharp inhale, and coughs, trying to move his lips to speak. His voice is dry and hoarse. “C-crow-”

Crowley shushes him, miracling a closed water bottle that had not been in his hand before. It’s an invention of his own accord, with a straw sticking out that will not spill as he tilts it forward. “Don’t try and speak yet, just sip this.” 

He helps lift the angel’s head, and Aziraphale gratefully sipped the water. After a few moments, Crowley placed it where the bowl had been, and looked back down at the Angel. 

Aziraphale took a few breaths, and tried again, with veritable success, “Crowley?” 

“I’m right here,” The demon answered, “And you’re going to be alright.”

The angel swallowed, and looked desolate. “Andras? Stolas?” 

Crowley’s heart did a painful twinge. Of  _ course _ he was asking about the two companions, of  _ course _ . He racked his brain, remembering a half-dissolved demon and another apologetic one. 

“Stolas is fine,” He said, “Andras… I’m sorry love.” 

Aziraphale’s face tightened with pain, and Crowley leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Hastur and Ligur are fine. They came to get me. You were right about allies down here Angel. You were right.” He took a deep breath, “I am so  _ sorry _ I didn’t listen more.” 

“I didn’t… didn’t listen… either,” Aziraphale replied, voice not going above a whisper, “I’m… I’m sorry… too.” Crowley gave a snort, shaking his head. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” He said, “But I promise, I’m not mad at you.” 

The Angel’s pained eyes began to shine with relief, and Crowley felt sickened. He had seen the worst of Aziraphale’s anxiety attacks in their existence on Earth, and hated knowing that he had contributed to one. 

“ ‘m glad,” Aziraphale whispered, letting his eyes fall closed, and slowly opened them, not seeming to realize he was falling back asleep. 

“Go ahead and rest Angel, just go back to sleep.” Crowley said, gently stroking his hair. Aziraphale’s eyes slowly close, and his breathing evens out. His face relaxes, beginning to lose the pale look.

Crowley lets out a breath, finally feeling  _ relieved _ . 

He closes his eyes, resolving to rest for a few minutes before focusing on the work ahead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	8. Tea with the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale host a tea party. 
> 
> And by Crowley and Aziraphale, it's Lilith. 
> 
> Lilith hosts the tea party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone. You deserve all the praise and love in the world! Thank you so much for your kind words and comments and your head cannons, they have given me such joy. 
> 
> It is not an overstatement to say without your support it would be a lot harder for me to complete this story. And I owe you all my thanks. 
> 
> I do have most of the story written, just need to finalize the epilogue and one crucial moment in the climax. It's going to have a payoff that I think you will all enjoy, but I want to make sure that I do it justice. 
> 
> I am so excited that Lilith is getting love!!! Ever since I saw The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and then Good Omens, I thought it would be fun to include her. I've also been developing a "fancast" for some of the OC's that I will list below. Of course, feel free to disregard it and imagine whomever you like :)

The first thing Aziraphale notices, before opening his eyes, is that everything is sore. He wiggles his fingers first, then his toes. Very carefully does he take a breath, taking care not to breathe  _ too _ deeply. Slowly, he swallows and opens his eyes.

Crowley isn’t there, but he can hear water from the shower going. And a woman is standing at the foot of his bed. She looks vaguely familiar, like he’s seen her before, but he can’t quite place her. 

“You seem more awake and alert.” She says, in lieu of a hello. 

“Em, good morning,” He offers, trying to clear his head. He feels drowsy, but a drowsiness common in someone who has slept for a long time. At least, he’s sure that’s what it is. He’d never slept long enough to know until now. 

She looks amused. “It’s not. On Earth it would be just past two in the afternoon. We have not met directly, but you have heard of me. I’m Lilith.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widen. He’s heard of her, both Upstairs, in Legend, and in hushed tones at his bookclub. The Demonic Mother. He tries to push himself up, tries to give her a bow or something to pay his respects, but she tuts loudly in disapproval and strides over to push him down before he can make the effort. 

“Don’t bother moving so quickly,” She says, looking more annoyed than he suspects she actually is. He wonders if this is where Crowley gets it from. “I took too much time and effort clearing out that wound for you to irritate it.”

The angel splutters in shock. “You? You-”

“Yes, I healed you,” The queen waves off his incredulity. “Speaking of which, I need to change your bandages again.” 

Reeling with shock, Aziraphale silently moves slowly up, so Lilith can replace the bandages around his torso. She makes a noise of approval as she pulls away the bandage, and all that is left on his chest is a defined scar. 

“The Holy Water worked well,” Lilith remarks, “This is healing nicely, especially considering how far removed you are from the Host. There is strength within you.” 

He can’t help the blush that overtakes his face. “Th-thank you,” Aziraphale answers. 

“My son chose well,” Lilith said, reapplying the new bandages. Her face goes stern, and her eyes meet his. “Do not forsake his choice in you and do him harm.” 

Crowley’s mother  _ indeed _ . 

“I would  _ never _ ,” Aziraphale vows, and Lilith seems to accept his claim. 

Her smile warms, ever so slightly, and she says, “Good.” And that’s that. 

She finishes tying the bandages, and helps him move so his feet can rest against the floor. 

“There is going to be a strategy meeting here, with the higher ranking members of the Royal Court,” Lilith informs him, and Aziraphale feels a pit in his stomach. Now? When he’s like this?

As if reading his mind, Lilith waves him off. “No one expects you to host anything,” She clarifies, “I’ll bring out tea, Crowley told me I have you to thank for the impressive collection.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” He says, not sure what the proper etiquette there is for this situation. Is she his Queen? A Queen? His mother in law? It may be the chest wound but he’s feeling winded all over again. 

“This is honestly a nice break for me,” She says, and if she can tell how he is feeling, she’s not showing it. Yet at the the same time she seems to understand that her running monologue is preventing an anxiety attack. He appreciates the careful nuance. Lilith instead begins laying out several pieces of clothing, and he spies a rather dashing looking navy suit. “I’ve been living in Los Angeles with my foolish husband, and they all drink coffee from ridiculous chains that over roast their beans. And it’s  _ your _ lover’s fault everyone is so obsessed with it.” 

Aziraphale lets out a weak chuckle. “He’s sometimes too good at what he does, and underappreciated when he does it.” He admits. 

Lilith looks at him, and her eyes soften to a level he didn’t think possible. 

“Oh, I can understand why he loves you.” She breathes. Aziraphale can’t maintain eye contact, so he doesn’t and she doesn’t force him. 

“Is that suit for him?” He asks, peering at it. It’s a lovely suit, but it’s not  _ quite _ Crowley’s color. She snorts, shaking her head. 

“This is  _ not _ his color,” She says, “This is for you. It’s… an apology for what happened to your own clothing.” 

The angel raises a hand to his chest, remembering a phantom pain and  _ red _ . They could have miracled the coat but… he shudders. No, they would always remember  _ that _ particular stain when they looked at it. Best to not bring it back. Three years ago he would have mourned its loss - and he did until Crowley fixed it. But it was one thing to save it from a paintball and another to save it from a stab wound. 

“Thank you,” He says instead, waiting for her to leave so he can attempt to wiggle in as best he can with the bandages around his torso.

Queen Lilith raises an eyebrow back at him, and doesn’t move. 

A moment passes, and Aziraphale quickly understands that she  _ is _ going to help him dress, and he best accept that. 

“Very clever,” She purrs when he gives her a deferring nod. Distantly, he reflects that it was a good thing she hadn’t been interested in the Apocalypse when it was supposed to happen. Because had she been in charge, it  _ definitely _ would have happened. 

\-----

Crowley steps out of the shower, miracling himself into his Court look. The Queen mother had appeared earlier, forcing him into the shower by  _ pushing _ and promising she would look after Aziraphale. He walked into the bedroom, only to see it empty. For a moment, he was frozen, until he realized that he could hear voices and bustling in the kitchen. 

And he could recognize them both. With a relieved sigh, he headed into the kitchen, and stopped dead. 

Lilith was moving about the cabinets, assembling food and cups onto different trays, while Aziraphale leaned against the kitchen island. But that wasn’t what made Crowley stop, it was the  _ outfit _ . 

Aziraphale was  _ decked out _ in a form-fitting suit, the blue accentuating his eyes, and letting his hair pop nicely. It was  _ dashing _ \- he looked  _ dashing _ . 

“Good morning dear,” Aziraphale smiled, slowly shifting his body toward the demon. 

Crowley’s brain had taken a holiday. “Gnk.” He answered, eyes wide. 

The Demon Queen rolled her eyes. “If this is how you behaved Up There, that is the reason it took 6,000 years to get him.” She snapped at Crowley. “And this is a perfectly  _ lovely _ Angel who does not deserve that.” 

“He has his moments,” Aziraphale answers her teasingly, and that snaps Crowley out of his shock. He steps forward and pulls his angel into a kiss, gently pulling Aziraphale forward. 

“Don’t change out of this,” He begs, and Aziraphale laughs. “I won’t, I promise.” 

The moment is interrupted by a pounding at the door. Lilith gives an exasperated sigh. “That is either the other Prince, or  _ your _ duke.” The  _ your _ is directed at Aziraphale, who gives an  _ ‘oh _ ,’ and tries to go to answer the door. 

“No, no, no,  _ no _ ,” Crowley pulls him back. “No. I’ll go,  _ do not  _ move.” 

The demon moves to answer the door, ignoring the  _ look _ his demonic mother gives that makes Aziraphale laugh. Logically, he knows that it’s in their best interest for Lilith to like and support them. But he also doesn’t want them  _ ganging up _ on him. 

He answers the door, and is met with the deja vu moment of seeing Hastur and Ligur at his doorway  _ again _ . 

“How is he?” The Duke asks. Hastur’s expression is indifference, but Crowley knows that’s just his face. Hastur is the closest thing Aziraphale has to a friend down here, and he tries not to think about it too much. Although it quite literally saved his life yesterday. 

“He’s alright, but  _ do not _ grab him,” He warns as the Duke pushes past him. Crowley groans, and looks over at Ligur. “I expect you’re coming in?”

The other demon nods, but without his usual growl and frustration that Crowley had grown used to when they came by. Ligur steps into the home, and seems to pause, nervously. “I… I think I was wrong, about your Angel.” He says. It is not an easy thing to admit, and Crowley understands what Ligur is trying to say. 

In a rare moment of pity, Crowley doesn’t bait him. The past day has left him too raw. “Most do,” is what he offers instead. It’s an easy out. They both know that Aziraphale won’t listen to any kind of apology. 

\----

Beelzebub, Dagon, and Stolas arrive shortly after, and they all take seats at the table. The head is left open, for when the King will arrive. The seat immediately to the left is for Lilith. To his right would be where Crowley would sit, as the hosting Prince, but in light of recent events that successfully communicated in a look from Lilith to him, they seat Aziraphale there. He gets escorted half by Crowley, but really mostly by Hastur and Stolas, who are both grateful that he’s still alive and well. The angel is explicitly forbidden from moving, and Aziraphale doesn’t immediately object to the fussing, but Crowley knows it out of politeness more than anything else. He knows that the moment everyone leaves, the Angel will be trying to push himself but that is a later-Crowley problem. 

Everyone else begins to take seats, and Lilith puts out the assembled food. Crowley helps Aziraphale make a plate, and the angel gives a sigh and an  _ ‘honestly’ _ when Crowley takes over and the demon wants to groan because it looks like this is a now-Crowley problem. 

They’re both saved by the Dagon, who proclaims that the King has arrived. Everyone rises, and Crowley helps Aziraphale up. 

King Lucifer looks different when he isn’t emerging from the earth to yell at an eleven-year-old antichrist for not doing his job. For one thing, he only stands at seven feet tall, and he’s lost the giant red muscles and horns. There’s still a slight reddish glow, but it isn’t quite so bold. He greets Lilith first, and it doesn’t matter that they saw each other yesterday, they embrace passionately. Lucifer eyes the table before him, and everyone bows their head. 

Distantly, Crowley remembers that the last time they met was when the Antichrist didn’t do his job, but it’s a little late for any panicking. Besides, Lilith wouldn’t let them all meet if he was still mad. 

Lucifer walks over to them, and it silences Crowley’s internal screaming. 

“It’s been a while,” He says, looking them both up and down. 

“Hello, King Lucifer,” Aziraphale bows his head again, and Crowley is grateful to his angel. 

“Aziraphale,” The king says, and Crowley doesn’t know how he feels about the king purring his name, almost sounding… fond? “It is not often, not ever, that I allow and welcome an Angel from Her Grace in my Kingdom.”

“I thank you,” Aziraphale says, “I recognize the  _ honor _ that it is.” only Crowley knows how the Angel nearly said kindness, but there’s a moment where he suspects the King and Queen are also aware. 

“Any potential doubts against you were thwarted,” Lucifer continues, “When you fought alongside Lord Stolas and Lord Andras, who shall rest in eternal comfort.” 

Aziraphale bows his head in remembrance. “I’m glad to hear of it… he was a g- _ noble _ demon.” 

“Should you be interested in Falling,” The King of Hell remarks, as if they were talking about the weather, and  _ not _ giving Crowley a panic attack, “You would be welcomed into this Court, I promise to you.” 

“Perhaps we shall continue this conversation over tea,” Lilith cuts in, noticing that Aziraphale is listing ever-so-subtly. To Crowley’s relief, Lucifer listens to his wife and takes his seat at the head of the table, and everyone sits as well. Crowley helps Aziraphale sit as well. 

“So how about it?” The King presses, “It’ll hurt, but not nearly as much as you’ve been through.” 

Crowley is reminded, in that moment, why he had avoided coming down for Court for as long as he possibly could have. From their seat across from Aziraphale, Beezlebub meets his eyes in a rare moment of shared sympathy. 

To his credit, Aziraphale doesn’t take any offense. “As I understand it, a prerequisite to Fall requires a falling out and doubt of Her Plan and Her Grace as Ruler of All Things,” He takes a sip of tea, which has been doctored by Lilith to include Holy Water. Already he can more easily take a deep breath - the healing is coming along nicely. “And unfortunately, to you King Lucifer,” Aziraphale adds, “I do still believe in Her as the Divine Ruler, and that ultimately She Has a Plan. My love for her is still intact and true, my issue is with the… lower management… as it were.” 

There’s a tense moment of silence where Crowley stops his heart. Aziraphale was tact,  _ completely _ tact, but their King has been known to smite people for less then to have someone sit to their right and say plainly that they believed in an authority higher than  _ his _ . In fact, everyone has held their breath. 

And then King Lucifer laughs. It eases the tension enough for Hastur and Stolas to join in, and even Lilith offers a smile. From down the table Crowley can hear Ligur mutter, ‘ _ Whole world’s gone insane _ ,’ and he can’t say he disagrees. 

“I never knew I could meet someone,” The King gasps, “That could rationalize telling a bunch of Angels to fuck off while still holding loyalty to Her and not Falling over it. Good catch,” He directs this to Crowley, who, caught off guard, can only offer an eloquent “Ngkf.” 

The demon prince very carefully does not look at Lilith. He can  _ feel _ the disapproval radiating off of her. 

“But the fact remains,” And here the King’s voice gets serious, and the merriment dies down. “That we lost the weapon, in that Angel Sandalphon, and our bargaining chip to keep Upstairs on the defensive. They’ll be planning an offensive soon, and will probably attack Las Vegas just to spite me.” 

“If I may,” Aziraphale offers, and Crowley feels a large amount of pride in him for not being afraid to speak up, and being able to speak up  _ well _ , when he had been near death just the day before, “I heard that you had wanted to hit them where it hurt, by launching a fight in Austria. I don’t see any reason why you  _ couldn't _ do that, and cause a split second diversion by making half their army go to Los Angeles.” 

The table is silent. 

“Play chicken with their army?” Beelzebub said, sounding doubtful, but not dismissive. 

“It worked in that show Crowley worked on,” Aziraphale shrugs, and they are  _ so _ going to talk about that later because that meant Aziraphale had been  _ lying _ when he said he didn’t know what Crowley was talking about when he would bring up  _ Game of Thrones _ , “And it’s not really a strategy they would see coming. They’re more of the ‘glorious horn-blowing on high and holy destruction of ‘bad places’’ - what they did in the last Great War. They didn’t exactly adjust to modern warfare or military strategy.” 

“I’ll think it over,” King Lucifer decides. 

Very subtly, Aziraphale does the slightest of wiggles. 

Crowley keeps very still.  _ Do not jump him,  _ he tells himself,  _ You are at a meeting, your boss is right there.  _

Other strategies get offered from around the table, and the King talks through each in turn. After a while - what feels like an eternity to Crowley, but really was only a few hours, Lilith rises. The rest of the table moves with her, but she prevents Aziraphale from doing the same. Throughout the meeting she had been refilling trays, enjoying sips of her own tea with a blissful look on her face, and weighing in on different strategies. 

When she stands though, it is to inform the table that they have encroached on Prince Crowley and Aziraphale’s (she leaves off the ‘Future Prince Consort’ line with a very subtle glare to Crowley) time, and she and her husband had enough to work with now to plan the next stand. 

“And when we do take that stand,” She says, “My husband and I expect you all there, leading the charge.” 

“Finally,” Ligur breathes, a grin breaking across his face. Crowley looks at Aziraphale, who doesn’t look surprised. 

No, he looks  _ determined _ . 

He looks  _ ready _ . 

And it’s really  _ fucking hot _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Lilith as acted by Gal Gadot, though with the purple eyes.
> 
> Satan is Benedict Cumberbatch, but more evil looking and red. 
> 
> Andras is Chance Perdomo (cousin Ambrose from Chilling Adventures)
> 
> Stolas would be Danai Gurira 
> 
> Legion (part of Aziraphale's book club posse) is Erika Ishii. 
> 
> As always, I accept prompts, thoughts, messages, and suggestions on my tumblrs: LadyGryffinJew and GoodOmensAndRecreation!


	9. To War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to war, and Aziraphale answers a very important question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO EXCITED to bring this chapter to you - it includes a moment that many of you have been asking for, and I can only pray to Someone that I do this justice for you all.
> 
> This chapter is, as really every chapter is, dedicated to each and every one of you. If you read it, did the kudos thing, did the subscribe thing, did the comment thing. I never imagined people would like this story, and you have all blown me away and I have felt so accepted. Thank you all so much. 
> 
> A lot of you have expressed fan-art, and unfortunately I am (I like to think, anyway) a writer, but definitely not an artist. For now we just need to use our brain-tv's and imagine the characters doing the things.

The King and Queen take their leave pretty quickly, with Beezlebub, Stolas, and Dagon close behind. All extend well-wishes to Aziraphale, who offers a smile and thanks. 

Crowley is desperate for them all to  _ get out _ . He has an Angel to ravish. But Hastur, it seems,  _ can’t _ read his mind, and he stays behind to tell Aziraphale what everyone had been saying since yesterday. Aziraphale can't seem to read his mind either, because he indulges Hastur in the conversation.

And Crowley doesn't know how Aziraphale  _ cannot _ be aware of what is on the demon's mind. He blames the injury, which may  _ actually _ be distracting him (in which case he would be gentle enough  _ of course _ ). But also, Aziraphale is probably just trying to be nice and spend time with a friend. Stupid four letter fucking word.

Not at all to Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale’s willingness to take a stand against the archangels left quite an impression.  _ No one _ doubts the angel’s loyalty to Crowley, and no one expects him to betray their great secrets. As far as the demons are concerned, Aziraphale is  _ officially _ a celebrity. 

Which is all well and good, and it’s great that Hastur cares, and it’s great that Aziraphale has someone that is also looking out for him in a way that doesn’t threaten Crowley’s status as  _ his _ demon, but he  _ needs _ Hastur to get the  _ fuck _ out. 

Thankfully, Ligur  _ can _ read Crowley’s mind. He let’s Hastur stay well after everyone else has already left, because he’s  _ still _ a bastard and a demon, but he finally lures Hastur away and out of their home. Before he goes, Ligur tells Aziraphale very sincerely (with only a  _ little _ bit of a growl) that he’s grateful Aziraphale had been there when he was, and that he would be ready to participate in the next Book Club, once they started having them again. 

And Crowley can’t even be  _ mad _ that they overstayed anymore, because the look on Aziraphale’s face when Ligur says that is something he wants to protect forever. 

But finally,  _ finally _ , they leave and it’s just the two of them again. Crowley watches the angel go to shut the door, and readies himself to  _ go _ . But then he takes a second  _ look _ . 

Aziraphale shuts the door, and tension escapes from his shoulders and he visibly sags against the wall. It's clear he's pushed himself as far as he can go, and Crowley changes his plan. 

Crowley circles his arms around his angel, burying his head in his neck. 

“You were  _ amazing _ today,” He whispers, placing a kiss on whatever skin he can reach. “Absolutely incredible.” 

His lovely, eloquent Angel gives a, “Ugnk,” in reply. 

“You’re  _ exhausted _ , poor thing,” The demon coos, and it’s a rhetorical question, but it doesn’t stop Aziraphale from making an agreeing noise. Crowley pulls him away from the wall, and Aziraphale goes with him, docile is you please. 

What his angel needs at this point is some gentleness. Crowley can do that. He can carry him to bed, help him drop and go under. It wouldn't take that much effort. In a single movement, he has Aziraphale in his arms and is gently shushing him when the angel makes a weak halfhearted protest. It's a testament to his exhaustion that he just leans into him. 

They slowly make their way back to the bedroom, and later Crowley will note that all the food, plates, and cups that were in the dining room have been neatly put away. It made sense - plates and cups that Lilith has used know better then to let themselves  _ stay _ dirty. 

“You were  _ incredible _ back there,” He says, "My  _ spectacular _ angel.” 

Aziraphale is too worn out to reply, but makes a speculative  _ ‘hm’ _ noise. There's a small smile on his face, but he's already lightly dozing. 

"It's alright," Crowley soothes, helping him into their bed and pulling the blankets up. "Just let me take care of you now. It's just you and me here."

"You're  _ wonderful _ , you're so wonderful to me," Aziraphale says drowsily. He offers Crowley a smile, and the demon is helpless to do anything but kiss him. 

He spoons behind Aziraphale, curling around him. "I was so scared," he whispers, "I was making us dinner when that  _ blessed _ feeling went off, bouncing about like  _ pop rocks- _ "

" _ Oh _ , so it was pop rocks!" Aziraphale said tiredly, giving a yawn.

Crowley chokes on air because it was  _ stupid _ but he  _ remembered _ and-

" _ I love you _ ," He pushes Aziraphale - gently, minding his chest, looking down at him with  _ wonder _ and  _ love _ . And this isn't how he saw this conversation going, but he nearly lost his love yesterday and it doesn't matter to wait for the perfect moment if it means he's going to  _ lose _ him. Aziraphale, who had been moments away from sleep, is brought back by the sudden movements. Crowley is crouched over him, and Aziraphale is too worn out to adequately handle the  _ love _ in his eyes, "Angel, I love you. I've loved you for hundreds of years. You've been my  _ best friend _ for  _ thousands _ of years, and there's no one else I want by my side for the next thousand years and after.  _ Please marry me _ , and I'll make sure you always know how much I love you."

"Crowley," Aziraphale whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He let out a gasp and raised his hands to cup Crowley's face, brushing away tears Crowley didn't realize he had shed. The angel leaned forward to give him a kiss, placing additional kisses over his cheeks, his nose, his eyes.

_ "I love you _ ," Aziraphale whispers, giving him one more kiss because he can, "I have loved you for  _ so long _ . I will follow you anywhere you want to go for as long as you will have me. I will  _ gladly _ marry you." 

Crowley chokes out a laugh that sounds like a sob, and leans down to give another kiss. He's lost in how long they do this, until he feels Aziraphale pulling away. He leans back, realizing that the angels eyes are barely open, and flickering. The demon places a kiss on his forehead, and curled around him so they can sleep. 

\----- 

Court is held the next day - no rest for the weary, it seems. Aziraphale helps Crowley get ready, fussing with the circlet that adorns his head. Crowley in turn helps Aziraphale into his new suit. He can't stop running his hands over the angel, over the material, and Aziraphale has to finally bat his hands away because they were late enough as it was. 

They had already changed Aziraphale's bandages, and the demon is relieved to see that the wound is already looking so much better then when he and Lilith first saw it. 

They go slowly. Aziraphale is feeling far better, thanks to sleep and the crepes Crowley made him before they left, but neither really wants to push it. 

(" _ Oh, for me?" Aziraphale blushed and wiggled when he saw what Crowley was preparing. "My dear, you spoil me." _

_ "You deserve it," the demon replied, kissing his temple. "I thought was fitting, because the first time we had these was when I knew I wanted us to get married." _

_ "You-you-incorrigible flirt," Aziraphale exclaimed. He looked up, eyes shining with joy. _ )

Pushing it would incur the wrath of Lilith, which neither is particularly courting. 

The throne room appears different then before. Instead of one large symbolic chair that sat empty between Crowley and Beelzebub, there are now two. They are occupied by the King and Queen, and Beelzebub is already in their seat. 

They both bow, but Crowley makes no effort to take his seat. Instead, in a move that shocks Aziraphale ( _ and several demons around that gasp _ ) Crowley sinks to one knee in front of Lucifer and Lilith. 

" _ About fucking time _ ," Aziraphale thinks he hears Beelzebub whisper, and  _ knows _ that what they say when Lilith shoots them a sharp  _ look _ that has them looking sheepish. 

"My King, My Queen," Crowley says, "I come before you to ask for your formal permission to marry Aziraphale, Principality of Heaven, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and Great Trickster from Earth." 

The room is dead silent. 

The King shifts his head to the side. That prior warmth that Lucifer had shown them both the day before is absent, and the angel doesn't know if it's because the King is not in a good mood, or if he is putting on a show for the Court. 

Queen Lilith looks to her husband, and lets out a breath that coming from anyone else would sound like an exasperated sigh. "And does this Angel already know of the intent, or is this the first time he is hearing of it?" She asks, giving them both a narrow glance. 

Aziraphale swallows, thinking rightly that he should be the one to answer. He also feels like he should also kneel, but the moment that  _ thought _ arises the queen's stare turns so intense that he rightly guesses she would not want him to do that and potentially exacerbate her hard work. 

Aziraphale clears his throat to speak. "I have known Prince Crowley for 6,000 years, and I have loved him for much of that time, though I didn't always know it. At first… yes, I didn't expect the engagement. But Prince Crowley has always moved rather fast for me." He says this endearingly, mostly looking at his Demon who very carefully doesn't look away from where he is kneeling. And it's true. Crowley had always lept to the most natural conclusion for them first, decades ahead of what Aziraphale had been ready for, and Aziraphale had had to use the remaining time to catch up. He had always been scared this would mean he would lose the demon, but Crowley had always been faithful - always deserving of his trust. 

And Aziraphale's love. 

"I love him, and I will always be loyal to him." He says as much to the King and Queen, lifting his face to them both. There is a long pause, where not a sound is made. 

"Well," Lucifer says, with a wry grin, "If I'm not your king, at least you'll let yourself belong to  _ my _ prince. Consider this my blessing."

They are met with a deafening roar of cheers from the attending demons behind them. Several chant the typical " _ Hail Satan _ " that Aziraphale has come to expect, but more cheers begin to join the fray - and he blushes furiously at the realization that they are cheers for  _ him _ . 

Upon the approval, Crowley rises with a triumphant grin. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls the angel into a passionate kiss, making the cheers that much louder. As they break apart, Aziraphale finds that he had unconsciously grabbed Crowley by his robe, and now has to untangle his hands.

"Alright, alright," Queen Lilith's voice echoes sharply, "You two have monopolized our attention for long enough. Take your seats and we can begin." It is then that she notices the chair that had been set for Aziraphale, and she rolls her eyes in disappointment. She  _ snaps _ her fingers, and it disappears. Instead, Crowley's throne has stretched out to accommodate both of them. 

"We will figure out how to accommodate your position later," she decides, "But you will  _ not _ put any strain on an injury caused by defending one of My demons."

"Yes, my queen," Aziraphale says, quickly sitting next to Crowley. Out of instinct he leans into him, and Crowley puts an arm around him to encourage this action. 

In the beginning, several demons step forward to petition the king. One by one they offer their thanks for his return, and then they turn to offer their thanks to Aziraphale, for his bravery in defending them. 

Aziraphale relies on his memory of the courts he used to spend his time in. To every well wisher he bids his own thanks, and offers an invitation for each one to join him in their quarters at a later time for his book club. Each demon looks awestruck to receive such an invitation. 

Crowley squeezes his hand each time. The Angel knows that this is a substitute for kissing, but they need to hold some kind of decorum in the demon court. It's bad enough they brought so much attention to themselves earlier by the proposal. 

When enough demons have petitioned the king and there is no more news, Lucifer stands to address the crowds. 

"You have all been loyal servants to me, ever since our Great Rebellion from Her Might And Plan."

There is a chorus of cheers, and 'Hail Satans.' Even Crowley joins in. 

"And we have fought long and hard to Thwart the actions of Upstairs, including doing our part in these series of skirmishes. The time has come for our Final and Glorious Battle, though it is important that we take no lasting damage. This fight is a chance for us to work out our aggression over the Armageddon That Did Not Happen."

Tactfully he does not look at Aziraphale or Crowley. 

"We must remember that any Angel fighting is fair game, with one very notable exception."

Every single demon looks at Aziraphale, who very carefully keeps his gaze on the King and tries very hard not to blush. It's only obvious to Crowley, who yearns to get him away from the Court and take him  _ apart _ . 

"We cannot upset the Ineffable Plan. Any demon who upsets the scale after today without prior planning will be destroyed by me  _ personally _ , so be sure to  _ get it out of your system _ now."

Most of them audibly gulp. 

The King then begins to delve into the plan for their Great Battle, and once he begins to describe how some will be sent to Las Vegas as a diversion while the final standoff will take place in Austria, Aziraphale allows himself a wiggle that Crowley squeezes him for.

\----

Crowley had always assumed that the sight of Aziraphale in his suit would be the most attractive thing he would ever see (second of course to his Angel in any state of undress, or without clothes altogether).

Of course, the sight of him in lightweight armor on top of a HellHound was fierce competition. The demon was mounted atop his own, and sauntered it over to the angel to tell him so. 

"Keep that armor on for later," he ordered, "I'm going to take if it off of you. Piece by piece." 

Aziraphale blushed, but gave him an agreeable enough look. Accompanied by a subtle glance at his  _ own _ look. 

(King Lucifer had assigned them to Austria, at the Angel's request. Initially they were supposed to lead the diversion, but Aziraphale had stunned the courtroom when he interrupted the king to request a reassignment, because, and to quote Aziraphale verbatim, " _ I would really like to see us destroy the fucking Sound Of Music _ .")

It took Crowley's impressive willpower to not have him on that chair. 

Aziraphale had to know what he was doing.  _ The brat _ . 

Beelzebub was kind enough to switch spots with them, and was taking command of the Vegas Battalion. 

Their flirting was interrupted, as usual now, by Duke Hastur. And such was Crowley's life now that he just turned his face upward in exasperation while Aziraphale greeted him with a smile. Ligur rode alongside him, giving the Prince his amused smirk. 

Ligur was worse, by far. Hastur just enjoyed having a friend who did dastardly deeds and was just enough of a bastard to be hilarious.  _ Ligur _ knew the effect it had on  _ Crowley _ and subtly  _ encouraged _ it. 

"Any strategy you're going to want to try out?" Hastur asked the angel. "Because I don't think swapping clothes is going to work as well this time."

"I daresay you are right," Aziraphale agreed, grinning at him. "What do you think?" 

"I was going to barricade you with a wall of fire," Hastur suggested, "so those bastards can't go skewering you like a kabob again." 

Crowley scowled, because  _ really _ ? Of all the remarks? And Ligur actually did frown, sensing that maybe Hastur had gone too far, but Aziraphale gave a sharp laugh, shocking them both. 

"A sound idea," he said, "I certainly don't want to put the Queen out again. Though, if you could extend the barrier around Crowley I would be most appreciative." 

Ligur was right, Crowley decided, they've all gone  _ insane _ . And it was his fault, considering it had been his idea to bring Aziraphale with him all those years ago. 

No regrets, of course. Not a one. 

"Course it's including your demon, it's including all of us. You think I'm stupid enough to let you go off with a sword again?" Hastur scoffs. 

Aziraphale freezes, and a look crosses his face that makes Crowley go soft. " _ Oh _ ." He says, and even Ligur has to look away. They're joined soon by Stolas, who is wielding a bow and arrow. She gives Hastur a nod, and a wall of fire erupts around them. 

\----

In the end, the battle does not take an absurd amount of time, thanks to the diversion strategy. 

In Las Vegas, the Angelic forces are quickly overrun thanks to Beezlebub's plan of a Hellfire minefield, to compensate for their smaller forces. After a couple traps are triggered, the Angel's quickly retreat, not willing to risk the inferno. The humans, as usual, take no notice. They assume it's just a new kind of attraction in the surrounding land near the strip. They are not entirely wrong. 

Austria becomes the more interesting and lively affair. King Lucifer leads the charge, Queen Lilith at his side. The demons all cry out in excitement, and the Angels on the opposite side roar back. 

And they charge. 

There's not very much Aziraphale can make out through the smoke. Crowley, though he approves of the defense that it offers, refuses to let him ride too close to the sides and Aziraphale is inclined to follow his lead. Around him, Hastur, Ligur, and Stolas flit in and out of the barrier, cackling and laughing all the while as they fight. It's good for them to be working through their energy like this. 

A few angels, anointed fully in a type of Holy Vaseline manage to break their barricade, but Aziraphale and Crowley are quick to strike them down. Aziraphale cannot, and will not bring himself to murder. He relies on the blunt sides of the sword, and manages to strike with the intent to knock out, not kill. Crowley does not comment on it, he's too focused on making sure they keep going. 

It becomes clear that the demons are winning this great fight. Many Angels turn and run, they are not willing to fight and die outside of the Plan. Crowley can see Michael ordering the main troops away from the battle, and he seethes. She is too far away, but he longs in that moment to project himself over and destroy her. 

Sandalphon is also a distance away, trying so smite demons, but his time in the pits has him too skittish to stay for long. For all his talk and bluster about war with War, he seems to be more suited for a range attack then anything close, and vanishes before he can go back into a pit. 

That is the moment when a new demon emerges through their barricade, and a rage that Crowley has never felt before blooms in him.

Gabriel. 

The archangel reaches to attack them with that  _ stupid flaming sword _ when he seems to  _ recognize _ who he is actually looking at. And for that  _ surprised _ look - the fact that he really had meant to  _ kill Aziraphale _ and leave him to  _ die alone _ \- Crowley knows he has to  _ end him _ .

He charges forward and meets Gabriel's blade, and the archangel is unprepared for the sheer amount of  _ rage _ propelled his way. Crowley is unrelenting, battering him with his blade and forcing him up against their barrier. The steam from it sizzles away some of that protection he was coated in, and Gabriel cries out in pain. It's with that opportunity that Crowley is able to slash across his chest with his sword, and Gabriel cries out and fall to his knees. He jumps down from his hellhound, and Crowley raises his sword up high, ready to take his own kind of justice for Aziraphale-

"Wait!" 

The demon prince pauses, looking over to see Aziraphale also dismounting. For a moment, Crowley wants to argue, wants to press his advantage before Gabriel can hurt him again, Aziraphale looks steely, determined. 

Crowley shifts to the side, ever so slightly, still pointing his sword at his throat. Aziraphale gets closer, standing in front of him. 

“ _ Why-just-how-could-you- _ ” Gabriel gasped out, coughing furiously between each word to exert the effort just to accuse. " _ Why would you - betray- fuck - that - that- _ "

And in that moment, Aziraphale felt at peace. Completely, totally, at peace. There isn't any sinking warm feeling that has cause him so much anxiety his entire existence. The agony he spent over not being enough for his boss, not being enough for his peers. The years of loyalty and effort that went unnoticed and scorned. The fact that love made him a traitor. He had enough. 

There was no sinking, awful warm sensation creeping through his body. Just absolute clarity. 

Finally, he had his horrible boss before him, and he was free. 

Aziraphale grinned, and that grin seemed to make the archangel shrink back even further. 

“Why would I  _ fuck  _ a demon?” Aziraphale guessed, smirking at the emphasis he could place on the swear. Gabriel was too terrified to nod, but his eyes gave the affirmative. And he could try to explain the millennia of how he found friendship, love, and acceptance in the arms of a demon over the sterility of heaven. But that wasn't something Gabriel would understand. So he decided to be a bit of a bastard. 

The Angel laughed. “Simple! The  _ power _ , the  _ status _ .  _ You’re _ about to be marched into Hell to be a prisoner for as  _ long  _ as they want you in one of their  _ darkest pits _ \- and I’m going to live by the side of a  _ Prince _ . And marry him! Maybe you should have followed my example, hm?”

He stepped back, and gave a wave of his hand. It was purely for the pomp and circumstance, but he had a faithful play-actor in Hastur, who had popped back in the moment Gabriel did, who was born to be a soap-opera actor. 

“You heard the Future Prince,” the demon snarled, pulling Gabriel by his collar, “Off with you now.” 

Hastur dragged the archangel past the former Principality, who didn’t look behind him to watch them leave his sight. He waited for a moment, or ten, before he could turn around and be sure he wouldn’t still see his former boss. Aziraphale let out a relieved breath as he did. 

It was over. 

The moment he turned, Crowley was right there in front of him. It took Aziraphale a moment to remember the  _ words  _ he had said to Gabriel, and that dreaded sinking feeling began to manifest in his stomach. It made it seem like he had been  _ manipulating  _ Crowley this  _ whole  _ time, and what would the demon think of him then?

“That,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale bit back a gasp at how  _ hungry _ his demon looked, “Was the  _ hottest _ thing I have ever head.” 

It didn’t matter, in that moment that they still had to deal with the prisoners from that days’ fight. It didn’t matter that they still had to work out and plan how Aziraphale would go from ‘future prince consort’ to ‘prince consort’. It didn’t matter that they weren’t done fighting, not really, would never  _ truly _ be done fighting. 

Because Crowley pulled him into a kiss, and Aziraphale could tell that sinking feeling to kindly  _ fuck off _ and let him  _ have  _ this moment,  _ here  _ and  _ now _ , with the only other being who completed him. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just have one final chapter to go! I have mentioned this in comments, but I am going to do a series of one-shots after this story for moments that I wasn't able to fit in here. Beezlebub needs a one shot, because I will be honest, they were supposed to have a larger role here but Hastur took a lot of the spotlight. Ligur also needs a chapter, and I would love to see Lilith get one. 
> 
> If there are any requests for these one shots, I am all ears! I don't want to lose energy for this little universe that my heart made. 
> 
> I've also been thinking of a squeal involving a certain demonic mother's blessing for a pregnancy, and certain naughty angels that don't quite want to stop fighting. Would anyone be interested in that? It's a pretty intangible idea right now. The only mental image I have is Crowley holding a baby fledgling with poofy spotted wings and calling a baby 'pigeon' as a pet name.


	10. Spoils of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of war, with a promise for more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy guacamole, we did it everyone. We started this story on the most wild internet quote, fueled by a desire to bring several pieces of headcannon, fan art, and wish fulfillment into what is the weirdest thing I've done. But I am genuinely SO PROUD of how this turned out, and I owe it all to all of you. 
> 
> A heads up for this chapter, there is a moment where our favorite couple does the lovemaking. I gave Aziraphale a vulva for it because it's what my heart told me to do. I recognize that that may not be everyone's thing, so I put a series of **** where that part becomes obvious. So if you don't want to read it, just stop at the **** and go down to the page break, and you don't have to see it. I've also tried adjusting the tags appropriately, but if there is something I am not tagging that I should PLEASE let me know, and I will make adjustments. 
> 
> I have also been warned a few just awful things about Benedict Cumberbatch, and I'm rethinking my own mental casting of him as Satan (although the things I learn make putting him as a demon logical) so I encourage new satan headcannons. They boy just has to be very tall, vaguely evil looking, and just imagine him with a red hue. 
> 
> And note that this is now part of a series! That's right, you heard it here first :D The sequel should come out tomorrow, the first one shot ideally tonight.

Crowley pressed Aziraphale close to himself, kissed him deeply, and did  _ not _ let go. Even after the fire barricade went away. Even as the prisoners; including Gabriel  _ and _ Uriel, were shackled and brought below. Even as  _ Hastur _ tried to get their attention for them to go below and rejoin the army. 

To Hastur, Crowley lifted one of his arms, which was around Aziraphale’s waist. He did not break the embrace, but raised his hand up his middle finger. 

Distantly he could hear Ligur and Hastur laugh, and Aziraphale broke away from him. The angel smiled at him, and get a more chaste kiss to follow up. 

“Let’s go home,” The angel whispered, and it was that moment that Crowley realized that Aziraphale had never referred to their place Downstairs as  _ home  _ before. 

With a snap, Hastur opened the grown below them. Crowley pulled Aziraphale into another deep kiss, and they sank down together. 

\-----

There was no shortage of demons that wanted to  _ process _ the prisoners to the pit. Hastur, Stolas, and Ligur in particular were front and center to drag Gabriel off. 

This was communicated to Aziraphale and Crowley by Lilith, who told them quite plainly that the kingdom would celebrate for the rest of the week as a result, and Court would  _ not _ be held. 

“Do call on the King and I, at least  _ once _ ,” She said with a smile, and dismissed them. 

Aziraphale’s cordial bow goodbye was interrupted by Crowley dragging him off, who called a hasty goodbye over his shoulder. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale hissed, being half-dragged, half-pulled. He struggled to keep up with Crowley’s fast pace. “That was  _ rude _ ! It’s no way to speak with your mother!”

“She practically forced us away!” Crowley argued, and the heated look made Aziraphale  _ warm  _ all over for a totally non-anxiety related reason. 

The moment they were over the threshold in their home Crowley -  _ gently _ \- pushed Aziraphale against the wall and kissed him again. He began removing the armor clad to the Angel, and allowed Aziraphale’s hands to do the same for him. 

It became too difficult to keep kissing and trying to pull off their armor, so finally Crowley reluctantly pulled away to  _ snap _ it off. He hissed in approval,  _ finally _ getting to feel Aziraphale’s warm skin to his heart’s content without fear of  _ losing  _ him. 

The angel let out a shocked cry when Crowley picked him up, wrapping his legs around the demon’s waist on instinct. Aziraphale let his hands wander about Crowley’s back as he walked them back into their bedroom. He let out a delighted yelp when Crowley  _ squeezed _ his bottom. 

Crowley was elated. Finally,  _ finally _ . There were no more wars (for now). There were no life-threatening injuries. There were no meetings to get to. There was _ no Hastur _ . 

It was just  _ them _ . 

He gently lowered the Angel onto the bed, urging him to move backwards and lay on their pillows. 

“I  _ need _ you,” Crowley moaned, placing a kiss over his forehead, his cheek, down to his neck. He raised his lips up to his ear, in order to hiss into it and tug on the lobe with his  _ teeth _ . 

“Let me  _ have _ you, just be  _ good _ to me and let me  _ have you _ .”

Aziraphale gasped at the feeling of Crowley’s teeth, giving a full body shiver that Crowley  _ reveled  _ in. “Y- _ yes _ ,” He gasped, “I’m -  _ ooh _ \- yours - all  _ yours _ , as long as you want me.” 

“I’ll always want you,” Crowley growls, sucking a mark into his neck that makes Aziraphale keen. 

Crowley shifted himself to place a kiss in the hollow of his throat, relishing in the feel of Aziraphale running his hands through his hair. He placed more kisses, trying to force himself to  _ slow down. _ He wanted to make Aziraphale  _ fall  _ apart, and he had the  _ time _ to do it. 

He stopped at Aziraphale's chest, looking down at the scar. 

"Does it hurt?" He asked, tracing it with feather light touches. The angel shook his head. 

"No, it doesn't. Honestly, more tender than anything."

Crowley leans down to place a gentle kiss over it. A reminder of when he almost lost him. Aziraphale pets his head soothingly, making reassuring noises at him. The demon let's his hands wander up to Aziraphale's nipples, and he begins to circle them with his thumbs. Aziraphale gasps and cries out - he's sensitive here, and Crowley  _ loves _ it. He refuses to let up, and shifts his weight when the angel starts to try and squirm away. 

"I thought you were going to be  _ good _ for me," he lets the Dom, the  _ Prince _ voice slip in, and loves the way Aziraphale shivers for a different reason, "Do I need to restrain you?" 

"N-no," Aziraphale says breathlessly, eyes glassy with arousal. He gasps and whimpers, but forces his body to stay still under his onslaught, "I'll-I'll be good for you." 

Crowley leans down to tease one nipple with his lips and tongue and teeth, while letting one hand stroke over his stomach to encourage him to  _ relax _ . Aziraphale cries out, trembling with the effort it takes not to arch his back. Crowley switches his mouth with his other hand, grinning to himself as Aziraphale's keens rise higher in pitch. ****

He can't feel the Angel's hardness poking at him, which has to mean…. 

"You're  _ dripping _ for me," Crowley breathes, " _ Good boy."  _

And - oh his good angel - he  _ delights _ at the praise, maintaining a litany of  _ please _ and  _ need you _ and  _ Crowely _ . 

How is he to deny this? How is he to deny his angel anything? 

Simple - he isn't. 

Crowley moves farther down, gently bending one of his legs. He kisses the inside of his knee, and slowly kisses and nibbles his way up his thigh, only to avoid the place making him salivate and reverse the process on his other leg. Aziraphale practically wails in need, and his stomach clenches in his effort not to thrust up. 

"Shhh," Crowley sooths, stroking his hips with his thumbs, then along his stomach to get him to unclench. "I have you, I always have you, my pet, my love." 

"Please,  _ please _ , Crowley,  _ oh _ ! I  _ need _ you," Aziraphale begs, and oh, he begs so  _ beautifully _ \- so  _ wonderfully _ . 

"You have me," Crowley promises, leaning down to adjust, moving Aziraphale's legs over his shoulders, tightening his grip on his hips, "Now let me  _ have you." _

Aziraphale  _ wails _ at the first press of Crowley's tongue. His hips  _ buck _ without his control, but Crowley was prepared for this and his grip doesn't let the Angel move. Doesn't let him go  _ into _ him or buck  _ away _ , which will come in handy because in no way is Aziraphale coming only  _ once _ tonight. 

Just as Aziraphale delights in consuming food, Crowley delights in consuming Aziraphale. He licks into him, noses along his folds, drags himself up to the Angel's clit and  _ sucks _ . It's that moment that Aziraphale's screams reach a crescendo, and Crowley knows he just came. Satisfied, he bears down, not letting up from his clit until he hears another high-pitched scream shortly after. He goes back down to lick into him again, but is soon drawn back to that  _ delicious _ clit, and this continues like a pattern until he hears Aziraphale begging him to  _ stop _ . 

Reluctantly, he pulls his mouth away from in between shaking legs, feeling rather proud of himself as he watches Aziraphale try and catch his breath. Slowly, he crawls back up the bed and captures the Angel's lips with his. 

"Still with me?" He asks, raising one of his legs to bend it again, to accommodate their new position. Crowley strokes his hair with his other hand, starting to frown at the lack of answer coming from the angel. 

"Aziraphale? Love? Are you here?" He asks again, trying to see just how far gone he is. 

A few more gasps later, and the angel nods. Aziraphale's eyes look far away, but he gives a concrete answer when Crowley asks a third time. Weakly, Aziraphale tries to hold Crowley's head in his still trembling hands, and bring their lips together, whimpering when he feels Crowley's fingers press inside him and  _ curl _ . 

" _ Please _ ," Aziraphale begs, and Crowley shifts again to enter him. The angel sighs with joy, trying to wrap his arms and legs around him. Slowly, the demon establishes a rhythm, all the while placing kisses over his eyelids, his nose,  _ him _ . 

He can feel himself drawing close, but he'd be blessed before he lets himself come before Aziraphale. With one hand, he reaches down to run a finger over his clit, and that's when Aziraphale trembles with the most powerful orgasm of the night. Crowley rides him through the aftershocks, the tightening of his body giving him what he needs to go over the edge.

For a moment, neither move, save for the gasping and panting they both do to try and catch their breath. Crowley weakly pushes himself to his knees to observe his Angel. 

_ Debauched _ is the only word that comes to mind. Aziraphale is  _ covered _ with bites, a blush that goes  _ all _ down to his chest, and his hair is a  _ wreck _ . His eyes are unfocused. Crowley's not sure  _ where _ he is, but it isn't  _ here _ . 

His nipples are already beginning to puff from his earlier abuse, and Crowley knows they are not alone. He lays down, gathering Aziraphale into his arms for a quick nap. 

He plans on waking them up soon, and having Aziraphale ride him then. After, they'll use the shower and then bath respectfully, because he loves the different sensations of fucking Aziraphale in the shower wall until his knees go  _ weak _ , and then the ease of the bathwater to go again after. 

Then they'll eat something, because by then Aziraphale will have  _ no _ energy. But that's okay, Crowley will carry him to bed and then he'll bring food. He'll feed the angel and they'll make love on their bed. 

And repeat it all  _ again _ . And  _ again _ . 

Satisfied with his plan, he lets himself fall to sleep. 

\-------

They enjoy Crowley's plan for the next four days. On the fourth day, Crowley emerges from the bathroom, carrying Aziraphale to their bed. His legs have never felt so utterly  _ useless _ , but he can barely move, not after Crowley had pulled him onto his lap earlier and asked him to be  _ good _ and  _ ride him until his legs gave out _ . Then Crowley pushed him to his back and fucked him  _ unrelentingly.  _

This time they really did  _ only _ take a bath, Aziraphale begging Crowley for a reprieve. 

"I need a break, or I  _ will _ break," The Angel said, giving him the saddest eyes he could muster. "I don't have your stamina dear." 

Crowley was a Dom. He was a Prince, He was a general and a war monster - because Hell doesn’t have heroes. 

But if Aziraphale looks sad, then he can’t have him stay sad. 

It’s just as well, because there is a note that was miracles to appear on their bedside table. He places Aziraphale back on the bed, and sits next to him, opening it. Aziraphale cuddles into him, asking him what he’s looking at. The angel watches Crowley pale. 

“It’s… the King and Queen. They’re coming over tonight, giving us warning now.” 

And it’s a testament to how well-fucked Aziraphale is, because all he does is shrug and turn over. Not one year ago he would have worked himself into a tizzy, but Crowley can’t sense anything  _ close _ to anxiety off his angel. Just a need to sleep.

“Wake me in a few hours, we’ll put out the tea.” 

Crowley is the one now feeling anxious… but not anxious enough to disregard an angel in need of spooning. And Aziraphale usually has the right idea anyway.

\----------

A few hours later, the King and Queen are enjoying tea in Aziraphale’s library. Lilith wanted to see the place that she had heard of as a famous book-club spot, for she never imagined such a thing to ever exist here. It’s quite lovely. 

Lucifer just thought it would be funny to interrupt them mid  _ celebrating _ . 

After waking up, Aziraphale and Crowley got ready, and Crowley reluctantly miracled away his limp, so Aziraphale would be able to properly host this time. They load up the trays, and Crowley has them float on their own down the hall as they join the King and Queen.

“This is a lovely library,” Lilith says, accepting the tea that Aziraphale pours for her. “I can see why so many demons love it here.”

“Crowley built it,” Aziraphale smiles at her, giving Lucifer a cup before returning to sit on the widened seat he shared with Crowley. His demon has already poured their cups. Aziraphale leans into him and enjoys a sip. 

“We’re here to go over the wedding,” Lilith continues, noticing that Lucifer is distracted by trying to read all of the titles. 

“My role as Queen,” she continues, “Is to perform the marriages. This will include yours.” 

Crowley feels an  _ emotion _ in his throat. It’s disgusting. He tries to swallow it away, refusing to let himself get emotional over knowing that his Queen Mother will marry him to his angel. 

“That’s splendid!” Aziraphale cuts in, able to feel his fiance’s tremor. “We would be honored.” 

“Who will stand at your sides?” Lilith asks, “You should each call upon one person to stand guard behind you. It’s an old tradition, no one will dare attack you, of course, but it is a lovely tradition.” 

“Well, I should like to ask Hastur, for certain,” Aziraphale says, like there was any doubt. Lilith gives a sound nod anyway, and they both look at Crowley. 

“Dear?” Aziraphale asks, realizing that Crowley kept a certain… distance from most demons. It was a combination of 6,000 years of predominantly working upstairs with a healthy amount of wanting to create an aura of fear and respect. Although effective, it means that he doesn’t quite have the same relationship that Aziraphale does with the rest of the Demonic Host. 

Which is fine, there’s only one person Crowley would want to watch his back anyway. 

“Where’s  _ Harry Potter  _ in all this? Or the  _ Percy Jackson _ books?” Lucifer asks, frowning. “Get some quality Young Adult in here!” Crowley laughs at the alarmed look on his angel’s face. 

\----

Beezlebub and Crowley have always had a complicated relationship. Without argument, after Lucifer and Lilith, they are the two most important and powerful demons of Hell. They are two sides of the same coin. They even share a title. 

To say they are siblings is not correct. No demon is related to one another. All were originally made Angels in Her Image, but all lost faith and Fell. They are all related, so none are related. 

Yet there is a particularly estranged bond that both polarizes them and bonds them. At times, Crowley would feel the weight of being the Solely Stationed Demon on Earth, and miss the companionship of another. This was before The Arrangement, before he could act upon the feelings he had for Aziraphale, when he had to pretend he disliked his angel and they went centuries without seeing each other. Sometimes he would wish he could be in Beezlebub’s metaphorical shoes (not literal, they were too ugly) and be surrounded by his own peers, and not humans with fleeting lifespans. 

In turn, Beezlebub was a natural introvert. They enjoyed the prominence of hearing the Divine word of their King and being able to relay the exact messaging at any time, and the fear that they caused everyday in court. But after hours of hearing Deeds of the Day and Appeals made them long for quiet solitude. So at the end of the day, they would sometimes wish for the long pauses of silence that Crowley had Up There, away from the sometimes all too annoying demons that made their kingdom.

Like true siblings, both wanted what the other had.

Both had different relationships with the King and Queen. Crowley was a devil child - which is an optimal thing to be in Hell. He managed to perform Temptations in such a subtle way that he could cause humans to do wrongdoing on their own, in a masterful ripple effect. In this way his suave impressed Lucifer, who was always quick to offer his praises on the rare occasion that Crowley came Downstairs. And his isolation and work with the humans impressed their Queen. Lilith had once been a woman. The first woman. And Eve had been her oldest and dearest friend. Crowley had followed them and kept them company, and truly understood humanity better than most. Beezlebub wasn't stupid, they knew he was her favorite. 

Crowley respected King Lucifer in a detached, respectful way. Never did he forget that for all of his swagger and callous joking, the demon had once led them all into a Great Rebellion. He did not feel a particular closeness with Lucifer, not in the way he did with Lilith. Besides, Beelzebub was the one Lucifer went to first. Beezlebub was the one that reported on their King's thoughts everyday. Beezlebub had the ear of everyone, and Beezlebub was always the first thought whenever the Prince of Hell was mentioned. Crowley was Lilith’s favorite, but Beezlebub was Lucifer’s. 

But like any real pair of siblings, both had a silent Arrangement. They could harass and tease the other. Crowley was allowed to say that Beezlebub’s shoes were atrocious, that their hair was a disaster, and they needed to moisturize. And Beezlebub was allowed to insult Crowley’s pants, make fun of his Bently obsession when he could  _ fly _ , and the fact that he only listened to Queen. 

But no one  _ else _ was allowed to do that. 

On a rare occasion, Beezlebub had had enough of the denizens of Hell and fled to Crowley’s apartment for a drink and night off. He took them to a bar, and they knocked back entirely too much alcohol for beings of their stature. Someone had then decided they didn’t like the way Beezlebub looked, and called them a number of names they hadn’t even been aware existed (they didn’t make a habit to spend time on Earth, and didn’t know the current slurs). Crowley had gone  _ ballistic _ . He thrashed the harassers, and they were gone before Beezlebub could blink (they didn’t make a habit of getting drunk). 

It was the same as Beezlebub would do for Crowley, when a minor lord accused him of going to native. They were allowed to say that. No one else was. 

So when the time came for Crowley to pick someone to stand behind, he only had one choice. It would only ever be one choice. 

Aziraphale was the love of his eternal life. Beezlebub was another part to who he was. 

Which is what brought them to this moment, to his wedding day. Aziraphale had been whisked off by his stupid book club, led by Hastur and Ligur, to go to a disco party in one of the offices the night before the wedding. Beezlebub had shown up with a handle of incredibly aged whiskey, and the two shared it into the night. 

“The point - the point I’m trying to make-” Beezlebub said, trying to form words while intoxicated. 

“Dolphins.” Crowley said, nodding. 

“What? No! Stupid,” Beezlebub snapped. “No. The point is, if the King had switched it, if he put me Up There and you Down Here, you think I’d be the one marrying him tomorrow?” 

It’s said with a smirk. In no way do they think it would have ever actually worked out, but it’s a great laugh to watch Crowley choke on his next drink. 

“Oi! You - you _stupid_ _fly_,” He snapped, and the other prince laughs at the pathetic insult. 

“You’re being stupid, could you really imagine me with an angel? No offense, but I think you got the only one worth knowing. ‘Don’t even think I want someone like that.” 

“I did get the only one worth having,” Crowley pouted, and then shrugged. “You don’t need anyone if you don’t want anyone. You’re scary enough on your own.” 

“Damn straight.” Beezlebub agreed. 

They drank throughout the night, miracling themselves sober in the morning. Crowley got a laugh watching Beezlebub do it, and they set off together. 

When he looks back on it, Crowley doesn’t remember the wedding in its entirety. He remembers Beezlebub walking him down the aisle. He remembers the rare moment of affection when they squeeze his arm and whisper  _ ‘congrats _ .’ He remembers getting choked up when he sees Hastur lead Aziraphale, wearing one of the most elaborate white suits and of course there is a  _ cravat _ , and doesn’t even get jealous when they hug for a long time. He can’t stop himself from holding Aziraphale close as he approaches, and giving him a kiss. Lilith reprimands them both for skipping ahead, and vaguely Crowley is aware that the demons are laughing, but none of that matters. 

Lilith walks them through different promises, different vows to be equal to one another, to never put the other in a servant role, to honor and obey each other equally through all moments of hardship. Her ceremony reminds them all that a marriage is meant to be a true partnership, and it is a direct middle finger to the role she had been expected to perform for Adam upon her inception. To that end, she makes sure that every couple before her is one that is deserving of her blessing and protection. To be married before her is no small feat, and Aziraphale and Crowley are aware of the honor involved. 

Crowley remembers repeating promises to be faithful, and to love, and to hold his vow to Aziraphale as the most important thing. He remembers miracling himself into  _ not _ crying, he can’t  _ embarrass _ himself in front of the court, or his Aziraphale, or his mother, or Beezlebub, but a few tears fall down his face regardless. Aziraphale also cries. Many other demons there are also crying, so maybe it’s alright. 

But mostly he considers the promises they make. It reminds him of when they first agreed to the Arrangement. How they promised to Lend a Hand Where Needed, to be honest with one another, to look out and warn and take care of each other. 

In a way, they’ve been married this whole time. It was a nice practise, anyway, a good chance to prepare for what is to come. And Crowley would like to think they maybe they’ll be good at this marriage thing. 

Before he realizes it, Lilith is declaring them  _ married _ , and that they may seal their union with a kiss. And before he realizes it, Aziraphale has already pulled him by his collar to give him the most  _ passionate _ kiss the angel has ever done in public. They’re greeted with cheers, and distantly Crowley hears the pop of champagne. 

He ignores it all to pull Aziraphale closer, because this is  _ their _ story, it’s  _ their _ moment, and it’s about  _ them _ . 

It’s always been the two of them. 

\--------

“I guess I was wrong.” Uriel says glumly. She’s seated at the bottom of the pit, leaning on one leg with the other stretched before her. 

Gabriel hasn’t spoken since they were brought there, and it’s difficult to make out anything through his black eyes. 

They had been brought to the pits and roughed up, but upon being pushed inside, no one has come back for them. It seems they are to be left alone until Satan decides it time to release them, until the next big fight. 

It’s actually more  _ insulting _ , to be alone like this. Only to eventually be turned out because its more boring to be kept prisoner. Like they don’t even warrant Major Prisoner Status. 

(Of course, the only reason is because all of Hell wanted to be part of the wedding, but they have no way of knowing that. Which is a shame, because if they knew they weren’t even being treated like proper prisoners because of their least favorite Angel and Demon pair, they would be even more annoyed.) 

“I told him,” Uriel said, “‘ _ Don’t think you’re boyfriend in the dark glasses will get you special treatment in hell _ ’.” She laughs, loudly, and harshly. It echoes around the dirt and darkness. She repeats, “Guess I was wrong. Spread your legs for a demon, and your as good as a  _ pet _ to them.” 

Gabriel shudders. It’s gross, just gross. 

“We’re not all so bad.” Both jump at the new voice, and spring to their feet. 

A demon neither recognize is looking down at them, neither amused nor annoyed. 

“Who are you?” Gabriel demands, “What do you want?” 

“I’ve come to release you.” The newcomer hisses, and they exchange a glance. 

“Why should we believe you?” Uriel presses, “How do we know this isn’t a trick?” 

“Because you’re going to make me a promise,” the demon says, “And I think you’ll keep it.”

“What’s the promise?” Gabriel asks. 

“And what’s your name?” Uriel chimes in. 

The demon drops into the pit, and snaps his fingers. They are instantly teleported out, and into a city surrounded by hotels, bright lights, and the sounds of  _ decadence _ . 

Both angels shudder. Vegas. Better than being prisoner in Hell, but just  _ barely _ . 

“My name is Lord Bane,” He grins at them. “And we both want to make sure Angels and Demons know to stay  _ on their own sides.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support, none of this would have happened without each and every one of you. Your engagement helps keep my own energy and motivation going, and I would love to chat with anyone who is interested - you can find me at LadyGryffinJew or GoodOmensAndRecreation on Tumblr.


	11. Announcements be here

Hello! I am SO SORRY if you are disappointed right now at the lack of chapter, but I wanted to share three main updates, because I had a lot of comments expressing interest in this universe being expanded:

Announcement the first: This is now a series! You can see all updates here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1446436

Announcement the second: There is a sequel, and that sequel is now up! You can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143396/chapters/47722075

Announcement the third: The first of the one-shots are up! They are mostly going to be based off of "The Power, The Status" and some of the content may overlap with the sequel, but most won't unless I specify. You can find that here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151469/chapters/47740690

I hope you enjoy! And as always, I accept request, prompts, headcannons, and suggestions both here and my tumblr 'GoodOmensAndRecreation'. I've also made a photo for the series there and I am proud of it :) 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you like or didn't like anything (but be constructive please). I am opening to learning and growing, and I take requests.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [One Shots, Asides, and other Moments in 'Kingdom of Hell'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151469) by [Shay_Moonsilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk)
  * [An Angel and Four Demons Play Secret Hitler](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21236477) by [ceralynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceralynn/pseuds/ceralynn)


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